


[The Room's Hush Hush] {And Now Is Our Moment}

by Bittodeath



Series: {With Every Broken Bone} [I Swear I Lived] [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: All Deadpool related themes and problems, Angst, Blood and Gore, Case Fic, Confident Peter Parker, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Deadpool being Deadpool, Dom/sub, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Kinky, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Tired Peter Parker, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 58
Words: 102,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittodeath/pseuds/Bittodeath
Summary: Peter's life has gone to shit ever since MJ left him, but just when he thought it couldn't be worse, he meets... someone unexpected.[Someone he'd wish he'd never met, you mean.]Wade admired Spider-Man from afar all those years, because it's never good to meet your heroes, until the day Spider-Man needs help.His help.Neither of them expected what happens afterwards, but they wouldn't think to complain.





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I started to write this a few months ago and even though I knew starting it it would be a long fic, I don't have the patience to finish it before posting it.  
> I'll try to make updates on every Tuesday. Chapters are divided by PoV.
> 
> The cases are based on some episodes of the series _Fringe_. Yes, you should expect gore and all the things Deadpool-related like suicide, intrusive thoughts, etc.  
> This takes place BEFORE the events of Spider-Verse, which will be the second arc of this story. Peter hasn't had time to let himself go yet and other related changes.
> 
> [ ] This is White.  
> { } This is Yellow.

~~ PETER ~~

Peter knew, reasonably, he shouldn’t have gone out like this. He was a mess after MJ left him a few weeks ago, waiting for the divorce papers, he’d gotten fired by the Buggle two days ago, there was nothing left to eat in the house and garbage everywhere and to top it all, he had a cold.

But he saw no purpose to stay mopping in his now too empty apartment while crime happened in the streets, so he’d done the costume and gone out. He’d helped an old lady cross the street, stopped three muggings, and ran out of web fluid, resulting in a two-stories drop, directly into a garbage container. Of course, one of the trash bags had opened and spilled rotten food and several days old nappies over him, and there were unidentified fluids dripping down his legs.

He absolutely didn’t want to know what they were. No, rather, he would… stay here, and gaze at the pollution-grey sky above, and grimy outer walls.

“Holy shit, are you alright?” a voice asked shrilly, and he heard heavy footsteps running to his garbage container, just before a masked face interrupted his philosophical gazing at the sky. The mask was red, with black shapes around the wide, empty white eyes peering at him. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”  
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you”, he replied, harsher than he probably should have.

After all, the stranger only cared about his well-being, which was nice, especially in a city like New York. But he also had to admit he hadn’t wanted anyone around to witness his humiliating fall from grace. Well, now he couldn’t go any deeper: he’d reached rock-bottom. He didn’t feel like moving, but the masked guy – it was a guy, from how deep his voice was – would probably wonder about his sanity if he remained laying amongst trash. Trash among trash, he simply belonged.

Grimacing, he started to push himself up, sinking into the stinking piles as he tried to get a grip. The guy, thankfully, pulled back enough to let him sit up. He hoisted himself out of the container and dropped to the ground, making a disgusted noise at the sight of his costume. With a sigh, he looked up. The masked stranger was still there, and he was… well, he was a strange stranger. Clad in form-fitting red leather that set out bulging muscles on an impressive height, with the handles of katanas showing over his shoulders and guns strapped a bit everywhere over his body, he was probably one of the most unsettling things Peter had ever seen, Spiderman or not.

A maniac, probably. And Peter was out of web fluid, that was just great. The day couldn’t get worse.

Oh, wait. It could.

Before he could feel it come, he sneezed, his mask taking the brunt of it as snot just. Spread over his face.

“Great”, he said. “Just, great. Best. Day. Ever.”

The world started to spin and he took a step forward, dizziness overcoming him for a moment. The stranger reached for him with a frown.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” he asked cautiously.  
“I can take care of myself just fine”, Peter retorted, stepping back and knocking right back into the garbage container.  
“Sure”, the man answered, sounding completely unconvinced. “But there’s nothing wrong with needing some help from time to time.”

Peter didn’t grace him with an answer and instead started to climb the wall. He’d made it two meters high before his fingers stopped sticking altogether. His eyes widened in fear and he fell again, straight back into the container. He felt a sharp pinch to his thigh, probably a broken piece of something, and let out a long sigh. Maybe if he stayed here…

Massive arms reached for him and pulled him out of the garbage, setting him down on his feet but not letting him go.

“Alright, you’re not fine. Let me help you.”

This time, Peter snarled and wrenched himself away.

“Fuck you, I’m fine”, he bit.  
“Dude, there’s a syringe in your thigh.”

Peter looked down, and there was, indeed, a syringe in his thigh. That was the thing that had pinched.

“I _really_ don’t like syringes”, the man added, staring at it warily.

Peter rolled his eyes, which, _bad idea_ , because everything started to spin again, and grabbed the syringe, ripping it out. The man made a sick noise as Peter dropped the syringe back into the container.

“Well, thanks for nothing”, Peter said, before he started to walk away, not trusting his body to stick anymore.

He made it as far as the end of the alleyway before the world spun around him, faster than before, until everything faded to darkness.

*

Peter woke up feeling warm and comfortable, with something cold over his forehead and his eyes, and his spider-sense strangely… calm. It had gone haywire the moment MJ left him and had been constantly buzzing in the background, but right now, he felt safe. His head was still heavy and pounding, though, but that was probably just the cold. He reached for the thing over his face, but was stopped by a hand over his wrist.

“Don’t”, a voice said. “I haven’t looked at your face, but if you touch this, I will.”

He vaguely recognized the voice as that of the strange guy whom he’d met in that alleyway. His nose, which had been runny until now, was completely stuffed, and he could only breathe through his mouth.

“Whazzapen?” he asked, feeling like his mouth was full of cotton.  
“You passed out”, the voice answered, and he felt hands against his cheeks and neck. “You’ve got a severe fever, Spidey. I got some medicine, but ultimately sleeping it off is the best you can do. Here”, the voice added, gently slipping a hand under his head until he was pillowed against a muscular arm.

A cold glass touched his lips and he drank slowly – water, that soothed his parched throat. The guy pulled the glass away and pressed a pill to his lips, which he took without protesting.

“I’ll get some broth ready for you”, the guy said, laying him back. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”

Peter tried to snort and ended up chocking on his saliva, which evolved into a coughing fit that left him even more weakened. A part of his brain told him he ought to go back home, but he couldn’t even move his hand to scratch the itch he had on his stomach.

“Thanks”, he rasped ultimately.  
“Don’t talk.”

He soon fell asleep again, or he passed out, at this point there wasn’t much of a difference. He was blissfully unconscious, and that was what mattered.


	2. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade is confused. Confused and smitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to tell y'all that the title of this fic is from the song All About Us by He Is We (ft. Owl City).

~~ WADE ~~

Wade was… perplexed. This wasn’t quite how he had envisioned to meet his idol. He had always admired Spider-Man, from the moment he’d seen the lithe body swinging in the streets of New York some twenty years ago, to the day he’d decided he was brave enough to talk to the man in a spandex costume. You could say he had taken his sweet time, but as the saying goes, “once bitten, twice shy”. And Captain America’s bite had been nasty enough to leave him a long-lasting souvenir.

[Stop saying that, we didn’t get _bitten_ ]

{I would have liked getting bitten by Captain America…}

[You are nasty]

“No, no, he has a point”, Wade answered.

Anyway, it didn’t exactly matter since his hero had fallen straight into a dumper, staggered out of it, only to fall back in again and ultimately pass out in a dirty puddle. It had been obvious he wasn’t feeling good, and Wade couldn’t just… leave him there, where anybody could stumble upon the unconscious hero. So he had done the only thing he could think of and charged the Spider on his shoulder, carrying him home.

“Home” was a big word for the place he’d lived in for a total amount of two weeks. It was a big apartment in what had once been a nice neighbourhood, and was now falling to pieces. It wasn’t safe, but people knew better than to be nosy, so it was perfect for him. He had bought it some fifteen years ago to make a safe house, but had never needed it before. The furniture was minimalistic: an old, worn out leather couch he had worn a hole into – yeah, no, you didn’t want to know _how_ – and a TV set in the living-room. His weapons were stacked against the walls, and the window almost permanently open. There was a collection of bottles of alcohol in a corner, and another of empty bottles next to the loo’s door. Pizza and Chinese food containers were stacked in the kitchen, along with the greasy paper of his Mexican take-out. There was blood dried on the floor next to the couch and several bullet holes in the walls and ceiling, which he found gave personality to the place.

The bathroom was… No, better not to go that way. He had never set foot in the kitchen, and the bedroom consisted in a closet full of spare masks, materials to repair his costume, more weapons, and a grand total of three civvies outfits. There was a mattress on the ground, surrounded by a unicorn plushie that had seen better days, a pair of crocs in the most hideous tone of yellow he could find, three half-empty bottles of lube, a drawer on the ground full with burner phones, his laptop with that cute Hello Kitty sticker on the camera, and a photo of himself with Vanessa… before.

[Your place is a complete mess and you know that.]

{Sure but LOOK AT WHAT WE GOT}

He looked at what he got: Spider-Man sleeping under all the blankets he could find in his hovel of an apartment, a surprisingly clean washcloth over his eyes. The costume was still in a pile next to the bed, though Wade had considered taking it to the laundromat.

So, yeah. Not quite the meeting he had envisioned BUT he’d gotten to look at Spider-Man and. His suit hadn’t left much to his imagination, which Wade had _plenty_.

[Oh that you sure do…]

{Remember that time we imagined how it would feel to peel our skin away? Now _that_ was realistic imagination!}

He didn’t answer Yellow’s taunting and finally decided to go to the grocery store a few meters away. Vegetables… he shuddered at the fact, but because he treated his body like the trash it was didn’t mean Spidey was the same. The guy needed to get his strength back, and only _good_ food would do that. It didn’t take him long to buy a bit of everything, and even some meat – you could put meat in a broth, right? Right. He could always Google it – to put in a hot broth.

Spider-Man hadn’t woken up yet, but his skin felt less hot than before. It was a shame, though. Instead of being able to talk to his idol, the guy was unconscious with a fever!

[It’s not like you’ve ever been lucky, you know.]

{You’re the reason Murphy’s Law is a thing. Except it should be called Wade’s Law. Because you always fuck things up.}

“Hey, I am making hot broth and so far I haven’t cut myself, set fire to the kitchen or provoked any other kind of accident!” Wade replied with false cheer as he peeled the vegetable and cut them up in chunks.

He had found a recipe that seemed nice and easy enough, and ordered some pizzas for himself. No way in hell was he drinking _that_. Plus, it was for Spider-Man. Once the broth was done, he put it in a thermos to keep it warm – he did like having hot coffee at hand, sue him – and resolved to wait by Spider-Man’s side for him to wake up. His fever had abated some more, but he still slept with his mouth wide open.

There was nothing like a Beretta to the mouth for a stuffy nose, but Wade seriously doubted Spider-Man would appreciate the fact. Being dead and all, breathing wasn’t exactly a problem anymore.

[You are an idiot, you know that?]

The pizzas arrived and Wade dove in while Spidey slept his misery away. There was nothing left by the time the guy twitched again, waking up.

“Hello Sleeping Beauty”, Wade crooned. “How are you feeling?”  
“Better, actually”, Spider-Man answered. “Thank you.”

He started to sit up, and Wade helped him, lifting a pillow so he could lean on it. The washcloth started to slip, and Spider-Man slapped a hand to his face to keep it in place.

“Hang on, I’ll get you-” Wave rummaged through the wardrobe and found one of his new, clean masks, which he handed to Spidey. “Go on, I’m not looking.”

Spider-Man pulled it over his head until the top of his face was covered.

“This… This is not my mask.”


	3. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is finally well enough to talk with the stranger who saved him... and okay, the guy's not alone in his head. Literally and metaphorically.

~~ PETER ~~

Peter took off the washcloth over his eyes and blinked in the dimly lit room, quickly pulling the mask on before he could get caught barefaced. The guy with the weird suit was sitting on the ground next to him, and Peter realized three things: one, that he was naked under the covers. Which was a given when he took off his suit because he went commando under it. Two, that he was sitting on a mattress on the floor in a very messy… bedroom. And three, that the mask he had just put on wasn’t his. He blinked through the weirdly small white lenses, so unlike his own, and realized the guy had given him one of his.

“This… This is not my mask.”  
“Well yours was absolutely disgusting, and that’s coming from me! I figured you wouldn’t want to put a snot-covered mask over your face. It’s not hygienic, or so I’ve heard, and- _Shut up Yellow, I’m talking!_ What was I- Yeah, no, I haven’t cleaned it yet and-”  
“No, no, don’t bother! Really, thank you for… all you did.”  
“It was nothing”, the guy replied. “Here, drink that. You need food to heal.”

Peter took the thermos the red-clad man had handed him without turning back and took a sip.

“You can turn, you know. I might be indecent under here but the important bits are covered.”

The guy snorted and turned on his ass, smiling gleefully.

“And all these years I thought Spider-Man was too morally good to go commando under his suit, oh how I was wrong! It was a surprise- _Yes a good one, you whackjob, of course it was a good one!_ And yeah no I totally did not stare it’s not like your suit seems to be a second skin but AmAZinG bubble-butt, by the way.”

Peter couldn’t stop his smirk as he sipped at the broth – which was good but in a weird way – and listened to that kind maniac babble away.

“Underwear ruins the line of my suit”, he replied. “Also it is highly possible I don’t have any left because I totally forgot to do my laundry.”

He had no idea why he’d just admitted that, but the guy seemed to be even more of a slob than he was so he could hardly judge – or maybe even care.

“Happens to the best of us”, the guy replied with a shrug.  
“By the way, how should I call you? I mean obviously you know I’m Spider-Man, but I have no idea who you are.”  
“I’m Deadpool”, the guy replied. “DP, the Merc with a Mouth, Wade, your #1 fan, but for you bubble-butt, it’ll be Daddy.”

Peter knew he tended to word-vomit when he got nervous or cornered but this guy? This guy clearly beat him. Clearly and plainly. And he casually just admitted his name so he probably didn’t have a secret identity going on.

“Uh. Kinky”, Peter replied. “So… Wade. Thank you for your help, and the food, and the good company.”  
“Don’t you kink-shame me Spidey, you’re the one swinging around with bondage material! This ass should be illegal, really.”  
“…Why are you obsessed with my ass? It’s a bit creepy, you know?”

That seemed to shut up Deadpool – for a good five seconds, at least – but when he talked again, it was to mutter, and he was obviously not talking to him. So either DP wore an ear-piece under his mask or he was talking to himself.

“Of _course_ it’s creepy, how did I not realize? Yellow you’re not _fucking helping_ right now- White please, please just shut the fuck up!”  
“A-Are you alright, ‘Pool?” Peter asked as he finished his meal.

He was hungry still but he really doubted his stomach would support more solid food. And he didn’t feel good enough yet to web it through the city, which meant taking the metro. In his trash-smelling and yucky-doused suit.

“Fuckin’ peachy, Webs! I mean, there’s a gorgeous guy- an amazing spider! – in my bed naked, why wouldn’t I be fine?”

Peter chuckled.

“Red-nosed, smelling like trash and all sweaty-gross, yeah, who wouldn’t want that?” he replied.  
“I figured it would be uh… _weird_ to wash you while you were unconscious”, Deadpool replied. “If you feel fine, though, you can take a shower. You do smell, Spidey.”

Peter smiled. It had been a while since he last spoke to someone, and Deadpool was a kind, funny guy.

“Help me stand so if I fall I don’t crash”, he said, holding his hands out.

In an instant, Deadpool was beside him, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet.

“Ew, wait a sec”, Peter said as everything started to roll around him, his hands clenched over the leather of Deadpool’s costume. “Okay, I’m stable again.”

He noticed Deadpool was looking down, to his body: the sheet had fallen down and he was standing naked there. Under the mask, he quirked an eyebrow.

“Does the sight of my nude body offend you?”

Deadpool remained silent for a long time.

“This should be a criminal offence”, Wade muttered.  
“Alright, move it. Where’s the bathroom?”

At this point in his life, Peter couldn’t care less that he was shamelessly standing naked in a stranger’s bedroom, waiting to be able to take a shower. And, to be perfectly honest, it had been a while since anyone looked at him… like this. Looked at his naked body with awe and… desire? Things with MJ had stopped being physical a while ago – a sure way to know their relationship wasn’t exactly floating anymore, but slowly sinking. Alright scratch that, it was the _Titanic_ and MJ was Rose – devastated but alive – and he was Jack, sinking down deeper and deeper in frozen water.

So, yeah. Wade was staring and it was quite flattering. But also he was freezing his ass off despite his fever and, through the leather, he could feel how _warm_ Wade was. For a second, he considered wrapping himself into the other man’s hold, but then deduced that Wade would probably have an aneurysm and die. He’d have his death on his consciousness then, and that would suck. He let go of Wade’s arms and peeled his hands off, wandering into the next room and stopping short on the threshold.

His bedroom was a mess too after MJ left, so he had assumed it was kind of the same thing for Deadpool, but this?

“Dude, you live like _that_?”


	4. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spidey is too cute for Wade's safety. Way, way too cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update a bit earlier because I'm not sure I'd be able to post tomorrow !

~~ WADE ~~

Wade didn’t care that he lived in what was basically a giant dumpster. Hygiene was important if you cared about health, and it’d been a while since he last cared about that. But he had never expected Spider-Man to see that, and now he had to admit he was kinda flustered to admit how much of a slob he was to his hero.

“It’s a wonder you’re not deadly intoxicated yet”, Spider-Man went on.

Ah, yes. Spider-Man didn’t know about his healing factor. This explained that.

“Are you concerned about my health?” he asked, tilting his head.

[Idiot. He’s concerned about _his_.]  
{No one cares about you, otherwise you wouldn’t live like this}, Yellow said snidely.

“Who wouldn’t be concerned?!” Spidey replied, flapping his arms around like a headless chicken. “This is really unsanitary, you know! And all those weapons, that can’t be safe! You could provoke a major explosion, and-”

He stumbled and Wade hurried to catch him before he could fall.

“You’ve worked yourself up and now everything is spinning, uh?” Wade chuckled. “Leave my… living accommodations alone and go take a shower. You seriously stink, Spidey.”

Wade grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, along with a surprisingly clean towel, putting everything in Spider-Man’s arms and pushing him into the dingy bathroom. Spidey didn’t protest and minute later, the shower was on. Wade sighed in relief and looked back at his… “home”. He was so used to the mess he didn’t notice it anymore, but now that he was trying to see it through Spidey’s eyes… Yeah no okay this was bad.

{What are you doing?}  
[Isn’t it obvious? He wants Spidey-boy to be proud of him!]  
“Damn right, Whitey!” he answered as he put on some music and got down to work.

He opened a giant trash-bag – the type he usually used when he had to dispose of a body, which was rare. His type was more of leaving everything behind for someone else to deal with or blow the whole thing up. It turned out it was also a good thing for actual trash. Two full trash-bags later, he realized it would take more time than he had thought, and Spidey was taking really long to shower. He couldn’t blame him, though: the guy could hardly stand. The mounts of trash, once taken away, had revealed giant stains of grease, mould, rot, and even some blood he had never bothered to clean. He wasn’t exactly sure this was better now.

[Before it looked like you were just a giant slob. Now it looks like you murder people in there.]  
{We do murder people}  
[But not HERE. He’s the only one dying here.]  
{Maybe don’t blow your brain out where it’ll stain?}  
“So what, are you suggesting I put a protective plastic over the place I’ll shoot myself?”

“Uh… Maybe, don’t shoot yourself?” a voice suggested, and this was a new one.

Deadpool whirled around to find an adorable Spidey floating in his clothes, the mask still pulled down over his face.

“Spidey!” he squealed. “OH-EM-GEE, you look so cute like this!”  
“Cleaning this place up will take a few days at least”, Spider-Man replied, completely unfazed. “And I seriously doubt you own cleaning supplies.”  
“Cleaning what?”  
“Exactly my point”, Spider-Man said, and Wade could hear the grin in his voice.

{Wishful thinking!}

“Also… I don’t know, maybe you’re aware, but there’s a grenade in your shower. I thought for a second it was one of those ‘super manly’ shower-gels with weapon-design encasing…”

Wade’s brain supplied him with a vivid image of a naked Spider-Man in his shower, freaking out over the grenade in his hand, and burst out laughing.

“You didn’t pull the pin, did you?” he asked breathlessly.  
“If I had I don’t believe you’d be asking this question”, Spidey pointed out. “Why do you have so many weapons, by the way?”  
“I like ‘em”, Wade replied with a shrug.  
“That’s fair”, Spider-Man admitted. He shifted uneasily, and then nearly crashed as he lost his balance.  
“Alright, back to bed with you”, Wade declared, holding him up and guiding him back to the bedroom. “You need to rest. Sleep, if you can. Does medicine work on you, or would getting more be useless?”  
“Don’t bother, I’ll sleep it off”, Spidey mumbled. “Thanks.”

Spider-Man was sleeping before his head hit the pillow and Wade lifted his mask just enough to expose his mouth and nose, so he could breathe easier.

{You’re turning soft.}  
“It’s Spider-Man!” Wade protested in a hushed voice.

He backed away, leaving the hero to sleep his cold away, and resumed his winter-cleaning.

“It’s funny how much trash we accumulate over time”, he quipped.  
[Well you know what they say, ‘birds of a feather flock together’.]  
{You are so smart.}  
“Uh, excuse you, the only reason White can be smart is because _I_ am smart. You should compliment me instead.”

That afternoon, the boxes were chatty, as usual, but somehow they weren’t as mean as Wade expected of them. Not that the boxes were _nice_ , but sometimes, they were… tolerable. Wade ended up sleeping on the couch, his feet hanging off one end, with a room a quarter of the way to “decent”. He woke up mid-morning, his mouth dried up from being open while he slept. He groaned as he sat up, and noticed the bedroom’s open door. Spider-Man was nowhere to be seen, but there was an ad on the mattress – for the Mexican joint that had opened two months ago, Wade hadn’t gone there yet. A note was scribbled on the back, almost illegible from the tight writing. Apparently, Spidey wrote lots and lots.

“ _Thank you again for your help. It was incredibly kind of you and I really appreciate. I was feeling good enough to go back home this morning, so I went because I didn’t want to crash at yours for too long. I have my suit with me, along with the mask and clothes you lent me. I will bring them back once I’m feeling better, so don’t move out in the meantime! Your friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man._ OH-EM-GEE he’s so unbelievably cute! Man, I think I’m in love.”

[Well aren’t we fucked.]  
{Shut up, White! Spidey is abso-fucking-tely fabulous.}  
“Damn right, Yellow!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it !


	5. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update because Peter's part is kinda small !

~~ PETER ~~

Peter had spent most of his week in bed either sleeping or watching dumb movies, too sick to do anything else. He already missed Wade’s hot broth, and the thought of needing to find another job disheartened him. But finally, after a week, he was feeling good enough to resume his Spider-duty, and thus meeting with Wade. And he fully intended to tackle the awful living conditions of the weirdo who had saved him. He had washed the lent clothes and put them in the worn backpack he used when he needed to swing around the city with a change of clothes at the ready.

Wade wasn’t home when he knocked at the window, and the living-room was a mess once more. Peter ogled the massive machine gun on the table, and the grenades-full rucksack on the ground next to it. There even was a pink handgun laying in several pieces on the ground. Peter hadn’t bothered researching weirdos in red onesies, because usually he was the one turning up in the results, but faced with the disaster apartment once more, he couldn’t help but think _maybe_ he ought to have researched him before.

Sighing, he fell back onto Plan B, in case Wade wasn’t home, and pulled a stick-notes pad and a pen from the front pocket of his backpack. _Where are you_ , he wrote on the first. _I came to give you your clothes back but you weren’t home_ , he wrote on the second, sticking both on the window. _Call me when I can come by again_ , the third claimed. The fourth had his phone-number, because Wade could have watched his face and yet he didn’t and that… that counted for something. _Your Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man_ , he added on the fifth with a little Spidey doodle.

Slinging the backpack on his shoulder once more, he jumped from the fire-escape he had landed on and webbed his way towards crime. Now that his mind wasn’t fever-addled, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the strange things surrounding Wade. Like, the weapons. Or the absolute lack of clean space in that hovel. Or the hot broth. Wade looking at him.

He sucked in a deep breath. He was taking his divorce with MJ pretty hard. First because, obviously, he still loved her. She had been by his side almost all along. And second because, well, she had _always_ been there. He could come back home from a long night being Spider-Man, and know she would be there. Know she was his and he could tell her about the amazing or irritating things he saw on patrol. She had been his best-friend – his _only_ friend – after Aunt May’s death, and now, Peter was… alone. Life as Spider-Man had always been kind of lonely, but now it was… void. And those two days at Wade’s? It was like the man had been breathing life back into him. He didn’t want to lose that, wasn’t sure he could afford to.

So, yeah, he totally could have webbed the backpack to the window, but then he’d have lost his excuse to see the man again and the thought physically pained him. Maybe he was going mad, who knew? Groaning, he decided he needed to know _at least_ a little more about Wade. He doubted he was a villain, but still. What kind of hero had so many weapons? Sitting on a roof, he pulled his phone out from his inner, hidden pocket – in the inside of his thigh – and did a search on the internet with “Deadpool”. He found a twenty-five years old TV journal about a man dressed in red who’d caused a massive traffic jam on the highway and left not less than fifteen corpses in various states of gore. The man caught on video looked suspiciously like Deadpool, as the article suggested.

There was an article from _Insides_ , a now discontinued newspaper hardly trustworthy that apparently dealt a lot with conspiracy theories and cryptozoology, but Peter read it anyway. It was about a mercenary dressed in red leather who worked with katanas and explosives, a mercenary who, ironically, couldn’t exactly be bought, for he only took the mission if he was interested. He was called “the Merc with a Mouth”. Peter vaguely remembered Wade using these words, and even if he hadn’t, _this_ could clearly describe him.

The third was a Tweet from twelve years ago with a Tinder profile screenshotted. The photo was of a crotch clad in red, a handgun clearly mimicking a dick and Peter couldn’t stop himself from snorting. Lame. Still, he could clearly recognize the style of Deadpool’s costume. Curious, he clicked on the Tweet. _‘Oh my God I matched with Deadpool????!!!!'_ it said. _‘Update: so now I know why he’s called the Merc with a Mouth’. ‘Update: and it’s for the reason you think of.’ ‘Update: I still can’t believe I came from his words and voice alone it was so hot.’ ‘Update: noooo DP has deleted his profile!’_ It was the last Tweet from this account and now Peter was a bit worried.

Maybe Peter shouldn’t have searched because now he was even more confused. There was surprisingly little intel on the guy, especially since he walked around in red leather. But if he really was a mercenary, there would be more information on the dark web, and Peter couldn’t access it from his phone. Also, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know – or at least, not like this. Gosh, what kind of mess had he put himself into? Sighing, he put his phone back in place, webbed the backpack to an otherwise inaccessible vent and went back to his heroing duty. It was, all in all, a normal night in Manhattan.


	6. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ _You've got a message_ ]
> 
> **From:** Daddypool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm crap with computers and I managed to put the emojis on my Word document but putting them on here is... way above my level. So emojis will be written as follow: [insertyouremojihere].

~~ WADE ~~

Wade had cleaned up a bit more after Spider-Man left, but as the days passed, he’d lost his drive. Spider-Man had wanted to be kind, but he wouldn’t really come back. He would probably web his things somewhere Wade would find them, and that would be it. So Wade had abandoned cleaning and gone to Sister Margaret’s to get a job. Said job had been a complete mess and he’d gotten his ribs crushed. He’d done it, of course, but he still had to reset his bones right to help his healing ability to kick in. He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the dark shapes coming from his window where the artificial light hit it, and looked up to see a smatter of little sticky-notes all over his window.

“What the fuck”, he mumbled, stumbling to the window and gasping, wheezing, his everything hurting like a bitch.  
{Yeah, Wade, since when do we get sticky notes on our window? Is there a serial killer on the prowl we should be aware of?}  
[If it’s a serial killer, they’re in for a surprise] White grouched.

Wade sucked in a breath when he recognized Spider-Man’s messy scrawl. He had come back after all. He had come back and left him his freaking _phone number_?! He was hallucinating, there was no other way. He quickly thumbed the number in his personal phone – as opposed to the burners he used on the job -, pulled out a gun and, after removing his mask, swiftly shot himself in the head.

When he came to, there was blood and brain matter everywhere on the floor and even some on the couch, and he was still clutching a sticky-note with a phone-number in his hand. The phone number still hadn’t disappeared. Not a hallucination, then – cognitive recalibration usually made them stop, at least for some time. The other good point was that there were no voices. Just… the calm of his own mind. Which was currently whirling with confused thoughts.

**To: Baby Boy <3**   
_Daddy got your message, Spider-Boy_  
K for real I wasn’t expecting you to come back  
You sure you didn’t hit your head too hard on that trash container? 

He threw his phone aside and scrubbed his face. Spider-Man had come back here. _Willingly_. The guy had been burnt into his retina ever since they met. Of course Spider-Man was fit, but what he’d discovered was beyond his dreams. It had definitely made it into his fap-folder, especially Spidey standing naked with his Deadpool mask on, like a wet dream come true. He eyed the mess he’d made. He ought to clean this.

His ribs reset painfully and he finally was able to take in a full, deep breath. Marvellous. The place smelled horrible – of fresh blood and gore, of course, but also of passed food and rotten things. He might have thrown the trash out a few days ago, but there was no getting rid of the smell. He grimaced, thinking about moving out already. The place was trash anyway.

His phone dinged loudly and he jumped in surprise, before he grabbed it and opened the text he’d just received. As he did so, another came in. As he read the ID, his heart started to beat faster.

**From: Baby Boy <3**   
_Plz stop calling yourself Daddy. If anyone is to be called Daddy, it’s me.  
I have your clothes. And your mask. Washed them. And a promise to keep._

**To: Baby Boy <3**   
_Kinky. I like it.  
My memory can be really crappy, remind me what you promised?_

**From: Baby Boy <3**   
_To help you clean that hovel you call a home. It’s a surprise you haven’t blown yourself up on a grenade yet, or died of tetanus._

**To: Baby Boy <3**   
_First of all, how dare you. Second of all, I have. Blown myself up on a grenade. Got vaccinated against tetanus, though._  
I kind of have a healing factor, you see.  
Like, really, reaaaally strong.  
Like, in an immortal, can-never-totally-die way.  
If you catch my drift. 

There was a long silence from Spider-Man and Wade grabbed leftover pizza in the fridge, eyeing the remainders of a taco that was developing an ecosystem of its own and thinking that maybe he should clean that. That was nasty.

**From: Baby Boy <3**   
_Sorry, had to stop an assault._  
Alright ‘Pool, cards on the table: you’ve got your schtick, I’ve got mine. No biggie. But you’re fun to hang around with. And your place is trashed so I’m not staying over until it’s clean.  
And no this is not a date.  
Won’t be a sleepover either.  
Not yet at least.  
God plz stop me from rambling. 

**To: Baby Boy <3**  
 _SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL A SLEEPOVER? Will we braid each other’s hair and put on nail polish?_  
Come by any time, baby boy  
<3  
…or did you mean a sleepover [side-eye]  
[eggplant, eggplant, water]

**From: Baby Boy <3**   
_GROSS, WADE_  
I can’t believe you made me read this with my own two eyes  
I can’t unsee it now, ugh 

**To: Baby Boy <3**   
_You were warned, bb :P_

**From: Baby Boy <3**  
[picture: Spider is giving him the finger]  
 _Gtg_

Wade looked at the time: three in the morning. Spider-Man was rarely out after four, so he was likely going to sleep. Not a bad thing, Wade considered doing the same thing. He was wrecked anyway. Scratching his stomach, he pulled his suit off, put the photo Spider-Man had sent as his profile picture after a second of thought – he would put another once he’d have a better one – and fell back on his bed. Healing exhausted him. He closed his eyes just for a second.

*

When Wade opened his eyes again, it was bright outside and Yellow was whining about the sun burning their eyes. He fumbled for his phone and squinted at it: 3 p.m. And messages?! He quickly swiped to get a look.

**From: Baby Boy <3**   
_We should agree on some time I can come by._

Received at 9 a.m. Wade grimaced.

**From: Baby Boy <3** [Received: 11:15 a.m.]  
 _I got a lot of free time btw  
Aside from being the Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman  
So just let me know_

**From: Baby Boy <3 **[Received: 1:30 p.m.]  
 _I’m being clingy, aren’t I?  
It’s the spider thing.  
I’m SUPER clingy._

**From: Baby Boy <3** [Received: 2:54 p.m.]  
 _Plz if you don’t want me to come just tell me to go fuck myself_  
I’ll web your things to your window and you won’t have to see me again  
Just, idk, don’t keep silent like this bc it’s driving me mad

**To: Baby Boy <3**   
_BABY BOY I’M SO SORRY_  
I FELL ASLEEP  
I’m clingier than you tho  
Would never ghost U like this bb boy 

**From: Baby Boy <3**   
_Oh. Sorry, I panicked a little bit out there._

**To: Baby Boy <3**   
_Don’t worry about it_  
You can come by now if you want?  
I can make pancakes 

**From: Baby Boy <3**   
_Not in that kitchen you won’t  
Also I have patrol tonight_

**To: Baby Boy <3**   
_Alright no pancakes then_  
I’m the King of Pancakes tho, you’ll regret it  
Ooooh can I come with you? Pretty please?  
I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour  
And you won’t need to save me whatever happens  
I’d love to see you work <3 

**From: Baby Boy <3**   
_K I’m coming over rn then_  
We’ll see  
It’s not abt u, I’m just used to working alone 


	7. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is back to Wade's for a cleaning round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating a day early because I very probably won't have time to update tomorrow. You can expect an early update next week too, because I'll be going to Disneyland so... no time for updates.
> 
> Double update today again because SMALL CHAPTERS.

~~ PETER ~~

Peter put his suit in his backpack, where Wade’s clothes already were, as soon as he received his text. He had been pacing through his apartment with nothing to do but try to find another work and panic. He had applied for a teaching position that seemed promising, and sincerely hoped it would work out. He threw on a pair of old sweatpants and a shirt, both in such a state that he wouldn’t mind if they were irrecuperable from his stunt in Wade’s apartment. Along his backpack, he had a bag with cleaning necessities and he couldn’t help but think his apartment needed some cleaning too. How hypocritical of him.

Once he had everything, he opened his window, pulled his mask on and webbed his way through the city to Wade’s apartment, which was not that far, actually. He found the man leaning against his open window, wearing sweats too, along with gloves and his mask, not leaving an inch of skin exposed. Peter had no gloves but at this point he didn’t really care, since Wade had seen his naked bod. He landed with nearly no sound on the rickety stairs and gave Wade a two-fingered salute.

“Wade, my man!” he said, letting the grin filter in his voice.  
“You got here faster than I expected”, Wade replied with surprise and pleasure lacing his voice, pushing away to let him drop in.  
“Here are your things and- Oh my god is that a brain? Yeah that’s definitely brain matter, oh god.”  
“It’s uh- It’s mine, don’t panic”, Wade replied hurriedly. “Immortal, remember?”  
“But _why_ is your brain on the floor?!” Peter asked, fighting off nausea. “Oh fuck, it’s gross. Not the first time I see something like this, of course, but the gore always gets to me.”  
“I _may_ have blown it out”, Wade grimaced.  
“You do that often?” Peter asked, taking in the different, older stains on the walls. His question wasn’t really one and more of a statement, but still. “Usually I’d be all for cleaning the pipes but this seems… a bit _overboard_ , if you catch my drift.”  
“Well it’s not like there are consequences, you know. Just gives me a bit of silence, shuts the boxes up for a while.”

Peter eyed Wade and let out a soft sigh.

“Alright, let’s get started. First, everything that needs to be trashed, in the trash bag.”  
“You go about things in the wrong order, buddy”, Deadpool grinned, pulling out a speaker and his phone. “The first thing is: put on some music to shake that booty to.”  
“I’m not shaking any body parts”, Peter deadpanned. “But, yes, you’re right. Music.”

He regretted almost immediately as Wade belted:

“HEY, YEAH, I WANNA SHOOP, BABY!”  
“I should have expected that I guess”, he sighed as he started to stack the accumulated trash in the bag Wade had opened.

He realized with dawning horror that Wade knew the lyrics by heart, but it was countered by his wild “booty-shaking”, as he called it. Peter couldn’t help but ogle it – what, it was there, in his line of sight, perfect and muscular and moving rhythmically, how could he not- the same way he could hardly take his eyes away from Wade.

Once all the rubbish was trashed, the place felt bigger. Wade had emptied his fridge, which had started to develop its own ecosystem, before he decided to simply throw it out and buy another. Given the number of banknotes they’d found laying around, that Peter stacked neatly in a corner, tying them in wads of a thousand dollars, he definitely could afford a new fridge. Probably a whole damn penthouse if there were any more of these. Peter paused and took a good look at the site: as he’d thought, there was no way they could clean everything in one day.

“Getting tired, Spidey?”

Peter jumped: Wade was incredibly close, and his spider-sense hadn’t even reacted. That was worrying.

“That was so cool”, Wade breathed, craning his neck up to look at Peter, who was stuck on the ceiling.

Fuck, how embarrassing. It hadn’t happened to him in nearly ten years. He gracefully dropped down, landing lightly and soundlessly on his feet, a hand on his heart.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he protested. “I was thinking we could stop here for today. We won’t get everything done in a day, and it’s about time I start patrol.”  
“Sure”, Wade nodded, and Peter sighed as Deadpool’s shoulders visibly dropped.  
“You still want to come with?” he asked, and Wade perked up immediately, which he took as an answer. He let out a laugh and turned his back to the man. “Suit up and hop on.”  
“I don’t know if it escaped you, Spidey, but I’m like, way bigger than you”, Wade protested as he disappeared in his bedroom.  
“Hop on”, Peter repeated once he’d come out, all dressed in red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song, obviously, is Shoop (yes, the one in the movie).


	8. Wade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the case starts.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade eyed Spider-Man’s lean figure, pausing a long time at his backside, and gulped. Technically, he knew the man was strong. He’d stopped a train, lifted a car effortlessly, and casually swung himself from building to building. He had to be superhumanly strong. Still, he was like half a foot smaller and probably just as many pounds lighter. Wade was ridiculously huge next to him.

“Alright”, he said, jumping on Spider-Man to grab onto him koala-style.

He wrapped his legs tightly around his waist, most of his weight resting on his hips, his arms wrapped around his torso. Spider-Man barely moved under his added weight, only shifting to secure his hold over him.

{Oh I think I just came a little.}  
[Yeah I have to admit this is kinda hot.]

Wade shuddered and nuzzled into the hero’s neck, who froze under him.

“What. Are you doing?”  
“Hiding my blush, Spidey”, Wade replied in a girlish voice. “You are so cool!”

Spider-Man snorted in disbelief and Wade wondered who had made him feel like he wasn’t. And then, he jumped. Wade had jumped from buildings quite a few times, rarely able to catch himself on something and more often than not ending up splatting on the asphalt. But it was the first time he wasn’t the one who jumped, and he let out a high-pitched scream that turned into a whoop of joy when Spider-Man sent a web and they were suddenly soaring through the air.

“Gosh you just destroyed my ear”, Spider-Man complained, shaking his head.

{We could destroy something other than his ear too…}  
[We could break him in half!] White added gleefully.  
{Actually I was referring to his a-}

“Next time we can destroy your ass”, Deadpool said before his brain-to-mouth filter could stop him.

He would have face-palmed if he hadn’t been holding onto Spidey for dear life. Surely, the hero would chuck him down right now, or maybe because he was a hero, he would set him down on a roof and never see him again.

Spider-Man laughed.

“Alright, Daddypool, talk dirty to me, that won’t distract me at all”, he replied, still cackling as they swung through the streets of New York.

Wade nearly lost his grip and fell to his untimely death, luckily Spidey had apparently expected it and he caught him in a firm grip.

{I have died.}  
[You sure talk a lot for a dead man.]

“Did you just…?”  
“Call you Daddypool? Yeah, I did. You asked for it, didn’t you?” Spider-Man said, turning his head slightly and even without seeing it, Wade was sure the guy was smirking.  
“I’m starting to believe I have finally managed to die and somehow gotten to heaven.”  
“Daddypool”, Spider-Man susurrated seductively, and Wade felt his brain fry.

The flirting stopped brutally when a high-pitched scream of absolute terror rang through the air and Spider-Man had a full-body shiver.

“I assume this is a signal for your D.I.D.?” Wade asked as Spidey turned sharply and dropped several stories down.  
“Let me guess, Damsel In Distress?” Spider-Man replied.  
“Damn, you really are perfect. Like I’ve made you on the Sims”, Deadpool sighed.

They landed on a rooftop near the scream’s origin, smoother than Wade expected, and Spidey perched himself on the edge, looking down into the narrow alleyway. Deadpool peered down as well, all instincts at attention.

“Deadpool, tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing”, Spider-Man said with an edge to his voice.

A woman was scrambling backward, her mouth open in an expression of complete horror, as two misshapen humanoids forms staggered towards her. They had that slouched, dragging pace movies usually depict, and Wade scrubbed at his eyes. He was quite often subjected to hallucinations, but this was… new. One of the humanoids wore a dress stained with crimson, the other nearly toppled over on high heels.

“Zombies?” Deadpool said, really hoping this was an hallucination. “Don’t touch them, Spidey.”  
“Marlene, Sophia!” the woman cried out, looking around wildly but ultimately staring at the two ‘zombies’.

Spider-Man swung down, soaring above the two figures and catching the woman and bringing her to the rooftop where Wade was still perched, observing the zombies as they slowed down with an horrible gurgling noise, stopped and collapsed in two pile of bones wearing clothes in the mere time it took Spider-Man to come back with their victim.

“Are you hurt, ma’am?” the hero asked as Deadpool crouched, not wanting to overwhelm the poor woman.  
“Marlene and Sophia, they… No, it’s impossible, they can’t be, I…”

She looked at her trembling hands and, her eyes rolling back, lost consciousness. Spider-Man carefully lowered her down and looked back into the alleyway, where only the bones and clothes remained.

“They decomposed that fast? There really is something wrong here.”  
“The question is: what turned Marlene and Sophia into zombies”, Wade said, straightening. “Is it contagious, and if yes, how? I can’t die so I don’t really care, but you’re not as durable.”  
“Don’t you _dare_ -”  
“Too late” Deadpool called with a grin as he vaulted from the roof to the emergency stairs on the side of the building and scaled it down quickly.

[Show-off.]  
{But if we help and impress Spidey we might get in his pants~}  
“Shut up, you two, I’m trying to think here”, Wade grumbled as he approached the piles of bones and clothes.

There still was a bit of rotten flesh onto it, and it smelled horrible. There were blood spots on the ground, where the zombies had lost some meat, and Wade followed it back to its original point.

{Yummy.}

Sophia and Marlene’s handbags had been dropped on the floor a few meters farther, apparently in reaction to their flesh hastily decaying. A little vial, in pieces, was the closest thing to a starter Wade found. His ruffling through Marlene’s things told him what he suspected: she was a heroin addict, all the material for an injection shattered in her bag. Except it probably wasn’t her usual drug in the broken vial, but whatever killed her and her friend. He ruffled in the pouches of his belt to find a small plastic bag and carefully dropped the broken vial inside. He didn’t have what it took to make analysis, but he knew people. Spider-Man would be sensible to that, wouldn’t he?

[In your dreams. Your “acquaintances” would scare most people.]  
“But Spidey is _not_ most people!”  
{No, he would feel compelled to arrest them all. They’re criminals, Wade. Like you.}  
“Now that’s just mean”, Wade whined. “Spidey”, he called afterwards, “I’ve got something! Also I’m not actively dying… or rather, more than usual, which is great!”

“Does that mean you’re passively dying?” Spider-Man asked as he warily approached, eyeing the pile of bones. “Gurck, this is absolutely disgusting.”  
“Does our damsel in distress have track marks?” Deadpool asked. “I don’t think I saw any.”  
“Track marks?” Spider-Man replied crouching beside him. “No, I didn’t see any… You think whatever did this” – he pointed at the bones – “was in their drug?”

Deadpool nodded.

“Sophia and Marlene apparently both did drugs, and if… Olivia”, he said after opening the third bag “didn’t, and happens to be the only one who wasn’t contaminated, it is highly probable that’s how they got contaminated.”  
“I can analyse the sample, I think”, Spider-Man said, looking at the broken vial in the plastic bag. “Determine what it is, how long it takes to act, how it’s transmitted…”  
“You’re a nerd?” Deadpool asked, rising an eyebrow.

Spider-Man opened his mouth, closed it, and Wade would have sworn that under his mask, the hero was blushing.

“Well, _technically_ I’ve got a PhD in biochemistry, so I guess I’m not _that_ bad at science.”

Wade squealed.

“You are a nerd! It’s adorable.” He dropped the sample in Spider-Man open palm and looked back down at the bones. “You take Olivia to the hospital and warn the police, I get rid of all this mess before someone else catches the cooties.”  
“I doubt cooties have anything to do with that”, Spider-Man pointed out. “We keep in touch, I update you ASAP”, he added as he started to climb up the wall, grabbing the still unconscious Olivia before he swung away.  
“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave, Spidey!” Wade yelled.

Laughter answered him and Spider-Man disappeared. Wade turned back to the disgusting bones.

“Now, what to do with you?”


	9. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter and Wade spend a moment together and things... move quite faster than Wade expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update, as promised last week, since I'm leaving tomorrow! (Yes I'm so excited it's a wonder I haven't flown off to the moon already)  
> I'd like to point out something about the pacing of their relationship: it won't be slow-burn because I can't for the life of me write slow-burn, but it will have brusque accelerations and then pull to a stop just as suddenly because they will freak out.

~~ PETER ~~

Olivia woke up mid-way to the hospital, in the arms of the famous Web-slinger. It was a struggle not to drop her when she started to screech in his ear, but eventually she calmed down and he entrusted her to the medics. After that, he went to the police station, were he had his contacts, thank you very much, and explained what had happened. He wasn’t actually surprised when even his contacts didn’t believe him – he himself had trouble believing what he’d seen – but he would have thought, after twenty years protecting the city, that they would grant him some credit. Apparently, he had no such luck.  
His apartment felt… way too empty when he finally got to it. And way too messy. He was tired and upset and cranky, which didn’t make for a good mix. He only took the time to put the vial on his desk-slash-lab before he dropped on his bed and fell asleep, still in costume.  
He woke up mid-morning to a text from Wade.

**From: Daddypool**  
_You want some pancakes? My kitchen is clean and I’m in a cooking mode._

Peter smiled sleepily and typed his answer.

**To: Daddypool**  
_Sounds great, actually. Coming over right away._

He took the time to shower, smiling to himself at the thought of seeing Wade. He pulled on an old, ragged pair of jeans that MJ had wanted him to throw away ages ago – and now he was never going to – with an old shirt adorned with an atrocious “how do you count cows? With a cowculator” half erased, a present from Aunt May when he was still a teen. He shrugged his old coat on and clasped his web-spinners around his wrists, grabbing his mask on his way out.

Public transport took him as close as it could, and from there he walked up to Wade’s apartment, pulling his mask on once he got in sight. He heard the man singing way before he was at his door and smiled as he obviously poured his heart in the song.

“Suddenly, I'm feeling brave / I don't know what's got into me / Why I feel this way…”

He knocked, doubting the merc would hear him over the ruckus he was making, and opened the unlocked door.

“Can we dance / Real slow? / Can I hold you / Can I hold you close?” he sung as he entered, as loud as he could, and there was a clang in the kitchen as Wade rushed over.  
“The room's hush hush / And now is our moment”, they sung together, and Peter smiled under his mask, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t smiled like this in… well, years.

Wade wore civilian clothes, just like him, but he had a flowery apron on that said “kiss the chef”, and Peter was tempted to do just that.

“Spidey, you look like a hobo. No offence.”

Aaaand there went the moment. Down the toilet.

“I’m feeling very offended right now”, Peter deadpanned.

Wade grinned under his mask, and Peter couldn’t stop himself from smiling as well.

“I like your apron”, he said, taking off his coat and putting it on the couch. He looked at the floor: Wade had vacuumed, apparently, so he took off his shoes as well, leaving the ragged baskets in the entrance.  
“MY PANCAKES” Wade shrieked as the smell of burnt dough reached them, running back to the kitchen.

Peter followed, sniggering, and paused at the kitchen’s door: they hadn’t finished cleaning it the day before, but apparently Wade had had a very busy morning. Or probably the whole night; the kitchen was spotless. A small wooden table, under the table, was set for two persons. Coffee brewed in a new coffeemaker, its rich aromas tickling Peter’s nose, and metallic boxes of tea were stacked on the worktop. The place felt a lot warmer now, and Peter relaxed. It felt lived in, it felt… homey.

“Sit down, Spidey, it’s ready”, Wade said, stacking the last pancake atop the tower he’d made.

He brought Canadian maple syrup and an array of jams, before he asked Peter what he wanted to drink. Peter’s heart swelled at feeling taken care of. In the last months of their marriage, MJ had been too tired, too resentful. Without her, now that Aunt May was dead, Peter had been alone. For the first time since he moved out of their place, Peter didn’t feel so alone.

“Thank you”, Peter said, emotion filtering in his voice.

He had the feeling Wade felt the same.

“My pleasure, Spidey”, Deadpool replied with a wink.

Peter rolled his mask up to his nose, taking a whiff of deliciously smelling pancakes, and opened the jar of rose jam. He had never had a chance to try, it sounded weird and he was feeling adventurous. Wade was pouring an alarming amount of maple syrup on his stack of pancakes, but he stilled brutally when he reached for his fork and knife. Peter had been about to put some pancake in his mouth, but he stilled as well, lowering his fork.

“Wade?”

He looked at Wade’s mask-covered face, and realization set in. He had never seen Wade’s skin: his hands and face had always been covered, even when he was in his civvies. Since it wasn’t a matter of secret identity, it meant Wade was uncomfortable about something in his appearance.

“How are the pancakes?” Wade asked in a strangled, falsely cheery voice.

Peter ate his bit of pancake, sighing as the flavour hit his tongue. They were simply _perfect_.

“They’re the best I’ve ever had”, he answered. “You’re an incredible cook, ‘Pool.”

Wade seemed to preen at the praise, and Peter pointed at his pancakes with his chin.

“Why don’t you try them yourself?”  
“I’m not hungry”, Wade replied.

Peter lowered his cutlery, staring at him, before he finally put them down with a clank. Wade seemed to shrink in under his gaze, and to think that such a gentle man was so ashamed about his physic made his stomach churn with anger. He was tired, so tired, of injustice and cruelty.

“Don’t lie to me, Wade”, he said in a low voice, is tone dangerously soft. “We both have our secrets, but please don’t lie to my face.”

Wade squirmed in his seat and finally let out a groan.

“Don’t look at me _like that_ , Spidey, it’s totally unfair!” He huffed, threw himself against the backrest of his chair and crossed his arms, sulking. “I wanted to be cool for you”, he whined.  
“And you’re doing great”, Peter smiled, “but it would be even cooler if you ate with me.”

There was a long silence as Wade stared at his plate, his fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on his dark blue t-shirt. Finally, he opened his mouth to talk.

“You’ll feel like throwing up if I roll my mask up”, he said after a moment. “My skin’s… Freddy Krueger had an illegitimate child with an avocado.”

Peter almost snorted in laughter at the description, but he managed to hold it back.

“I’m sure I can handle it”, he gently said. “C’mon, I don’t care about how your skin looks like. Told you, you’ve got your schtick, I’ve got mine. I just want to eat breakfast with my new friend.” He paused. “If you’re really uncomfortable, I can turn on my chair.”

Wade huffed and shook his head.

“Well, you know where the bathroom is if you feel the need to throw up”, he said jokingly, grabbing the bottom part of his mask and pulling it up over his nose.

Peter took in a breath, waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual I hope you liked it, I'll see you all next week for a new chapter !
> 
> Also I think you recognized the song as the title of this fic, eheh.


	10. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade didn't want to do it like this, but when Spider-Man asks you something, in that voice of his... Well, you say "yes sir" and you do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That little cliffhanger killed you all, it seems.  
> A few things: my schedule changed, so from now on updates will be on Mondays. Also, double update with a kind of massive second chapter. Because I really really want to give you the following chapter.

~~ WADE ~~

[You know that if you do that, he’ll leave and never come back again.]  
{We can say goodbye to that ass} Yellow moaned.  
[He’ll see how much of a monster you really are.]  
{It’s written on your face.}  
 _Please please please SHUT UP._

Wade inhaled, his trembling fingers grabbing the bottom half of his mask. He’d known Spider-Man would see his face one day or another, but he had hoped he would get to spend more time with the guy before it happened. He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

[Who are you trying to kid? You’ll never be ready.]  
{Yeah, because you’re just that pathetic low-life everyone hates.}  
 _DAMMIT, will you shut it you two?!_

He freed his chin, his mouth, his nose, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the disgust pulling Spider-Man’s mouth into a frown. When he heard no sudden chair-scrapping, gagging or any other sound of the absolutely disgusted kind, he opened his eyes slowly. The hero was peering at him, his mouth set into something… pensive. He couldn’t tell what he thought, not when Spider-Man had his mask on.

“Your skin is like that because of your regenerative power, isn’t it?” Spidey finally said, breaking the awful silence.

Wade nodded, chocking on air. Spidey wasn’t running for the hills. Not yet. Spider-Man’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile.

“Thank you, Wade.”

And he picked up his fork and knife, cutting himself another bit of pancake which he chewed with an obscene sound of pleasure. _Who_ , beside him, made that kind of sound when they ate?! It sounded like a bad fanfiction where people moaned on their food because it was just that good. _He_ did it, because he was Deadpool and so he could, but Spider-Man?

“Gosh Wade, your pancakes are to kill for.”  
“Now Spidey, you’ve got a reputation to maintain”, he replied in a light tone, even though he felt like his chest was going to burst open from the overwhelming joy and relief.

Now reassured, he tore into his pancakes, ravenous. After getting rid of the bodies – or rather, the bones – the previous night, he’d come home and thought about Spider-Man. About the perfect body barely hiding under that spandex suit, those graceful swings, that _PhD in biochemistry_ because Of Fucking Course Spider-Man was a nerd, about that mouth sinfully calling him Daddypool, and his luck to know all of that. He’d tried to flush it out of his system quite handily, only to find himself wired and horny in a half-cleaned apartment. So he’d done the next best thing and cleaned up the whole kitchen so he could invite Spidey to eat.

And his Baby Boy was currently eating pancakes he’d just made, stuffing his mouth with obvious and obscene pleasure, dressed in a ridiculous t-shirt and a worn-out pair of jeans. Comfortable and warm, despite the mask half covering his face. He eyed the jaw with a five-o’clock shadow chewing forcefully, the long, strong and yet bureaucratic fingers curled around the cutlery, and finally paused on a detail he hadn’t noticed the previous time: on Spider-Man’s ring finger, there was the clean tan mark of a long-worn wedding ring. He had taken the ring off, and from there it wasn’t difficult to guess he’d either lost his spouse and finally made his grief enough to take off the ring, or… divorced.

Wade had always thought Spider-Man was the kind of guy who just… had his life together. But the more he got to know him, the more he realized the hero was just a man. Confused, hurt, broken… in many ways just like him. Strangely, he wasn’t disappointed, but rather, relieved. Spider-Man, no matter how much spider he had in him, was just a man. A man with full, pouty lips that whispered sinful things and a soft smile and a happy, loud laughter. No, Spider-Man couldn’t be divorced, because who could let go of such a man?

“That’s it, ‘Pool, I’m hiring you to be my cook”, Spider-Man joked, and Wade grinned.

He leaned back in his seat, having finished his pancakes, and licked his lips for a few drops of syrup. Spidey’s small movements, and the surprised jerk of his hand, didn’t escape him as the man openly stared at his mouth. He wondered what Spider-Man saw – he knew what he would see in his shoes: a gross old man with an avocado face who couldn’t even eat cleanly. But apparently Spider-Man and him didn’t agree on that, so… what did the hero see?

[Ravaged skin and teeth white and sharp.]  
{Rosy pointy tongue to curl around his…}  
 _DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT FINISHING THAT SENTENCE._


	11. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter finds himself bold. Very, very bold.
> 
> And very, very scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember what I said about slow burn but not really? Yeah we're getting there.

~~ PETER ~~

Peter couldn’t stop himself from jerking his hand when he realized he’d been staring at Wade’s mouth for _way_ too long. It’d been too easy to imagine how he might taste – pancakes and sugary syrup – or how his lips might feel like under his own – bumpy and textured and unfamiliar but probably incredible – or how he’d love to feel this tongue licking into his mouth and taking him apart piece by piece. Deadpool moved, leaning back to reveal once again his “kiss the chef” apron, licking his lips more sensually now, and Peter flushed because his staring apparently hadn’t been subtle.

He liked the way Deadpool looked at him. He’d known for a long time – to be fair, since the early days of his relationship with MJ – that he wasn’t straight. Guys totally did it for him too, and Deadpool was… well. Better not dwell too much on that. But the thing was, Deadpool looked at him and it did _things_ to him, things he’d thought dead a long time ago. It seemed he had been very, very wrong. Slowly, he rose from his chair and stepped towards Wade, who backed his chair at his approach.

“I intend to thank you for your pancakes properly”, he said in a voice lower than he’d meant to, “so if you don’t want me to now’s the time to say it.”

The lenses of Wade’s mask went wide when Peter bent towards him not so subjectively, leaning down to align their faces. Had Peter been braver, he would have sat in his lap – but he wasn’t, not Peter. Spider-Man was brave, Peter Parker was a dastardly coward. Wade didn’t move, still like a deer caught in the headlights, and Peter was now close enough to feel his warm, sugary breath fan out over his face. Gently, his bare fingers touched Wade’s jaw – he was still amazed by its perfect shape -, feeling the bumps of his skin, and its incredible warmth. Wade was apparently constantly running a fever, which considering his mutation wasn’t that surprising.

Peter looked at Wade and, seeing no adverse reaction, closed his eyes and the last few centimetres parting their lips. He had intended it to be gentle and soft, no more than a press of their fleshes, but Wade let out a sigh like he was finally breathing again, parting his lips just enough. Just enough to be too much and not enough. Gloved fingers skimmed against his jaw, to his nape, not controlling him but pressing into his skull with force. His tongue darted out, licking along Wade’s lips, and Wade’s grip tightened on him. It was all the encouragement Peter needed, feeling in Wade’s desperate kiss a loneliness so much like his own, a craving nothing but Wade’s lips could sate. The kiss turned firmer, Peter slowly setting out to explore and map out Wade’s mouth – and the man welcomed him, guided him in his visit and invited himself past Peter’s lips.

They parted, their foreheads still pulled flush together, breathing deeply to regain control over themselves, wondering what the hell had happened.

“Wow”, Peter breathed. “That was even better than the pancakes.”  
“What’s happening to us, Spidey?” Wade asked, his voice soft and close to broken.  
“I don’t know”, Peter replied, not moving back. “Are you scared?”  
“Of fucking course I’m scared”, Wade replied.

Peter smiled and opened his eyes, gazing at his reflection in the white lenses of Wade’s mask.

“Me too”, he confessed. “That’s what the mask’s for.”  
“It’s too good to be true”, Wade whispered. “It’s been a while since I last had an hallucination, but damn if this one isn’t fine.”  
“I’m not a hallucination”, Peter replied, finally daring to drop his weight into Wade’s lap. “Kiss me again”, he added in a scared whisper, “maybe we’ll figure out what this means.”  
“It means the author’s a damn meanie”, Deadpool replied, but he eventually complied and cradled Peter’s face between his hands, so careful in his moves Peter wanted to laugh. “You’re heavy, you know”, he added, sounding surprised. “I knew you were, I carried you, but usually hallucinations aren’t that… physical.”

Peter snorted.

“Shut up, Wade, and kiss me.”  
“Oh yes, order me around, Spidey-daddy”, Wade grinned, and Peter rolled his eyes, fisting his hands around the harness on his chest to pull him into a kiss.

It was easy to let his mind go blank when he was kissing Wade, he found out. There was too much to focus on to let him think about anything that wasn’t the merc’s warmth, his lips’ texture, the gentle and yet passionate glide of his tongue, the pull of his teeth, the muscles shifting under him as Wade moved his hands from his face to his waist.

“Wait”, Wade gasped, “wait, wait, is this for real? Like, really for real? You really kissed me?”

Peter chuckled and rubbed his thumb against Wade’s full bottom lip.

“Yes”, he purred. “I really kissed you, and I really loved it.”  
“That’s what a hallucination would say”, Wade said with a nod. “But as pleasurable as this is, I’m not overly fond of hallucinations, you see.”

Peter only managed not to fall because of his spider-sense, which made him send a web to the ceiling and pull himself up just as Wade brutally stood up, his chair clattering to the ground, and stomped to the living-room.

“Wa-Wait, Wade, what are you doing?!” he asked as he crawled towards him.  
“Recalibrating”, Wade replied, charging his Beretta and bringing it to his mouth.  
“WADE”, Peter screamed, throwing his web just in time to redirect the gun from his mouth.

The shot exploded the window and Wade stood there with his mouth open, staring at Peter through the white lenses of his mask.

“This is not an hallucination?” he asked in a small, scared voice.  
“WHAT THE EVER FLYING FUCK, WADE”, Peter bellowed as he jumped down and grabbed his harness again, shaking him like a tree.  
“You’re angry”, Wade said. “On my behalf?”  
“Blowing your brain out is NOT a solution, shithead!” Peter growled, his heart hammering in his chest.

Yes, Wade was immortal, but still, it had to hurt. His heart slowed down, squeezing tight in his chest, and he gasped out a loud sob. He couldn’t do this – couldn’t watch as the one good thing in his life tried to destroy itself, again and again. It hurt too much, to think about how much pain Wade was in that he readily, easily shot himself just for some peace. To _recalibrate_. Before he knew it, he was crying, just like he’d done after the divorce. And all the days that followed, until he’d reached a point where the emptiness was bigger than the pain. Where he had no more tears to cry.

That seemed to trigger Wade out of his trance, because suddenly there were big, muscular arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and he had his head pulled into Wade’s own shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Spidey, I never meant to make you cry”, he said in a low, soft voice that rumbled in his chest.  
“You were going to kill yourself”, Peter sobbed, his fingers clenched on Wade’s sweatshirt.  
“Not forever, Baby Boy. Just for a few minutes, I know how to time my blows.”  
“B-But you would have been _dead_ ”, Peter sniffled. “And I would have been alone again, and I c-can’t” – his words blurred together in his tears – “I can’t do that again, I can’t lose someone else. And y-you… I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Wade’s fingers slid under his mask, over his nape, and rubbed at his scalp and at his locks, warm and comforting. They stood like this for a few minutes as Peter calmed down, wondering what was going on in Wade’s head. Was he just as confused as he felt? Probably. Slowly, he pulled his head away from Wade’s shirt, that was wet with his tears and maybe some snot, who knew. He’d always been an ugly crier. Wade’s thumbs wiped the tears, or rather tried, only spreading the wetness on his cheeks.

Wade kissed him.

His lips soft and closed, brushing against his own in a gesture of comfort that had none of the previous passion. Peter sighed against his mouth, finding his feet again in Wade’s presence – warm and glorious.

“What was it that you called me?” he whispered.  
“Baby Boy”, Wade replied, a grin spreading on his lips.  
“Lame”, Peter snorted. “I like it.”  
“Baby Boy”, Wade repeated, slightly stepping away. He came back with a tissue, with which he wiped Peter’s cheeks.

What was he doing? He barely knew Wade and he’d already crossed so many boundaries, it made no sense. But the man had a way of making him feel important… like when he looked at him, he didn’t only see Spider-Man. He saw Peter Parker, too, despite not knowing his name. It was rare enough to be valued.

His phone rang, making the both of them jump, and he hurriedly pulled it out of his pocket. He took in a sharp breath when he saw the caller ID, and held up a finger.

“I need to take this”, he said, and Wade stepped away, giving him some space.

While Deadpool cleaned up the kitchen, Peter took the call, breathing to calm his nerves.

“Hello?”  
“Mr. Parker? This is Mrs. Hartford, Headmistress of Midtown Junior High-School. I received your application for the chemistry teaching place. Would you be available on Monday, at 9 am, for an interview?”  
“Monday, at 9? Yes, Mrs. Hartford. It’s a pleasure.”  
“Perfect! I’ll be seeing you on Monday, then. Goodbye, and have a nice day.”  
“Thank you for the opportunity, Mrs. Hartford. Goodbye, and a nice day to you too.”

Peter closed the call with a trembling finger and took a deep breath. His little cash supply was drying up quickly, especially since he’d been sick in bed for a week. It was high time he got some good news, job-wise.

“Do you like dogs?”  
“What?” Peter asked, taken by surprise.  
“Do you like dogs, Spidey?”  
“…Yeah”, Peter replied, suspicious. “Yeah, I like dogs.”  
“Good”, Wade said with a nod, reappearing from the kitchen.

He had finally taken off his apron and was wiping his hands on a dishcloth. Peter let out a heavy sigh at the sight, and snatched it out of his hands with a web. He couldn’t _not_ be sensitive about that when Aunt May had constantly drilled into his mind that _this_ was the dishcloth, and _this_ was the hand-towel.

“Wade”, he tutted. “You do not wipe your hands with the dishcloth. That’s not hygienic. Don’t you have some hand-towels?”

Deadpool stared at him like he’d grown a third head, and finally let out a barking laugh.

“Alright, Spidey, if you say so.” He gestured with his chin. “Do you have something planned right now?”  
“…No”, Peter admitted.  
“Alright then, put on your hobo coat and your shoes. There’s something I want to show you.”

Peter tilted his head, curious, but complied immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wade and Peter sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G.


	12. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [THIS IS WAY TOO DOMESTIC ALREADY]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh boy do I need to write because we're catching up with what I'd written so far, bravo to me for having no patience whatsoever and posting two chapters at once not once but several times. *Sigh*

~~ WADE ~~

Wade’s mind was a mess. It was usually a mess, actually, but now it was somehow _worse_. Spidey had kissed him. Several times. And stopped him from putting himself in time-out. And _cried_. IN HIS ARMS. Yellow had been screaming non-stop for close to ten minutes now, and White was having an existential crisis. Wade himself wasn’t exactly sure about what was going on, but he didn’t want Spider-Man to go yet. To ever go, if he was being truthful, but that seemed a bit like wishful thinking – or sequestration, your pick.

He ruffled through a drawer until he managed to find a bandana and two surgical masks. Keeping a mask for himself, he gave the other two to Spider-Man and swiftly disappeared in his bedroom to take off his mask, put the mask over his face and draw his hood far over his eyes, hiding himself in its shadow. Outside, Spider-Man had stuffed his mask in one of the worn pockets of his coat, tied the bandana around his head, pulled his own hood over the whole, and hid the lower part of his face behind the surgical mask.

Still, Wade could perfectly see wide, doe-like brown eyes. Marked by lines that betrayed Spidey’s age, and a tiredness only super-heroing could bring about. And yet, there was a warmth to his gaze, a gentleness that shook Wade to his core. Spider-Man, no matter how bitter and angry, cared. He _cared_ , and that was what made him so cool in Wade’s eyes – in a world where most were not actively cruel, but indifferent. Spider-Man had the gaze of good people who got out of their way to help. People who suffer with others because they’re just that empathetic. The corner of his eyes crinkled and Wade knew the spider was smiling.

“Let’s go”, Wade said with enthusiasm, grabbing Spidey’s hand and threading their fingers together.

Spidey didn’t let go.

Even when they reached the street, he kept his hand firmly lodged against Wade’s, who was very glad he wore gloves, otherwise Spider-Man would have known how much his hand was sweating. They walked for barely five minutes before Wade pushed a door open, Spidey hot on his heels – to be fair, Spidey was _always_ hot.

“…What… What are we doing here?” Spider-Man asked, looking around the animal refuge.

The employee had already recognized Wade, and before Spidey had time to ask again what exactly they were doing there, they were back with a dog. A sand-coloured golden-retriever, who wagged its tail excitedly when it saw Wade.

“That’s my girl”, he greeted her proudly as he crouched. “Hello, Allie”, he added in a soft voice, scratching the dog’s head and ears. “Let me put your harness on you and we can go for a walk.”

Gently but efficiently, Allie obeying swiftly, he clasped her harness over her back, and then connected the leash. She softly bumped Peter’s legs with her head, and he pet her curiously.

“Mr. Wilson”, the employee called. “Stanford is also available…”

Wade perked up.

“Oh, bring him in then!” he replied. “Here, you take Allie, I take Stanford”, he added for Peter, handing him the leash. “She’s a sweetheart and he’s a rascal, so it’s best if I hold his leash.”

The employee disappeared again, but this time, they heard mad barking before it stopped, and they walked in struggling to bring the dog with them. Wade firmly grabbed the leash and gave a long, good look at the muzzle, making sure it was correctly strapped. Spider-Man had taken a step back, surprised or afraid, Wade didn’t know. Stanford growled, low and threatening, and Wade clacked his tongue.

“Stanford.”  
“Have a good walk, Mr. Wilson!” the employee called as they walked back outside, but with two dogs.  
“What the hell just happened”, Spider-Man said.  
“We’re walking the dogs!” Wade replied cheerfully. “The refuge doesn’t have enough employees to walk all the dogs daily, so they rely on volunteers to help. I’m sponsoring several of them, but Allie and Stanford are my favourites.” He pointed to Allie. “She won’t walk for long. She’s eleven already, which is pretty good for a golden, but it’s wearing on her. The arthritis makes it hard on her joints.”

For now, Allie’s tongue was lolling out as she looked at Wade with adoration. It was why he’d fallen for her, two years ago. Stanford pulled on his leash and he held on tight.

“Stanford, calm down!” he said.

The refuge had gotten Stanford six months ago. It were six months during which they’d tried to get him to adopt the dog, because he was the only one who could get close enough to the dog, or whom he obeyed… once in a while. He was a six years old Tibetan mastiff, raised to be an attack dog and as such, labelled as a weapon. It was actually Wade’s fault the dog was without a master anymore, and also why Stanford was still alive, despite the good number of people who had wanted him to be put down.

“You do this often?” Spider-Man asked, the curiosity in his voice obvious.  
“At least once a week”, Wade admitted. “Often more.”

Wade guided them to the park, Spider-Man following easily.

[This is a bit too domestic for you, isn’t it?]

“Do you have anything new on our zombie-case?” Wade finally asked, dropping his voice.

Spidey shook his head.

“I didn’t do the analysis yet”, he replied. “What about you?”  
“I have a few sets of eyes watching for intel”, Wade said. “I was about to go for a report today… Do you think you can come along and not arrest everyone on sight?”

The hero paused and stared at him. Under his hood, Wade couldn’t see his eyes, but he could imagine the questions behind them. He distinctively heard him take a deep breath, and slowly let it out.

“Alright”, he replied. “Just this once.” He paused, and then asked: “Wade, I need to know though. I saw the weapons and the money. What is your deal?”

{Wait, he doesn’t know?}  
[Is he stupider than we thought?]

“You don’t know?” he asked, cocking his head.  
“I… I’d rather you tell me yourself than find out on the dark net”, he replied. “You’re not selling roses, I’m not that dumb. I just need to know…”  
“…what you can condone, and what you can’t”, Wade replied with a nod. “Yeah, I expected something like that. You’re in for a big disappointment, Spidey. I’m a mercenary. A hired killer. I kill people for money.”  
“You are not what I expected”, Spider-Man admitted. “So, here is the deal: while we work together, you don’t kill anyone.”  
“What about maiming?” Wade asked, dejected even though he had expected something like this.  
“…Only under _extreme_ circumstances”, Spider-Man replied.

That actually surprised him.

“I expected a flat-out no.”

Spidey looked away, keeping silent for a moment.

“I’m… no longer the man I was when I started”, he said. “The young me would have been appalled. I know how fights can be, and the world is not as black and white as I wanted to believe.”

{So many surprises in one day.}

Wade camped himself on his feet and stared at the hero.

“What you’re doing his great. You saved countless lives, which is astounding. I have so much respect and admiration for you, I could squeal like a little girl just thinking that you _talked_ to me.”  
“You did”, Spider-Man quipped, and Wade heard the tiny smile in his voice.  
“I’ve always thought… I complete your work. I stop the bad guys that prison can’t stop. I end vicious circles that your morals forbid you to.” He held out his hand, the other still firmly wrapped around Stanford’s leash. “Think we can be associates?”  
“Friends”, Spidey replied, clasping his hand in his. “Associates don’t eat home-made pancakes together on a Saturday morning. Friends do.”

{Welp. Wade’s gonna tear up now.}  
[It was kind of moving… IF THIS WERE A ROMANTIC COMEDY! Wade, you remember? Your life is the equivalent of trash horror meeting dramatic tragedy.]

“Friends?” Wade repeated quietly.  
“Not yet”, Spider-Man admitted. “On our way to be, though. It’s like dating, but for friends.”  
“Friend-dating”, Wade snorted. “Baby boy, you have weird ideas.”  
“Please tell me the nickname’s not gonna stick”, Spidey said, his eyebrows going up under his hood, and god did Wade love how expressive these eyes were.  
“I like it. Daddypool and Baby Boy, out there saving the world.”  
“SpideyPool”, Spider-Man blurted out. “If we have to mash our names to make a team, it should be SpideyPool.”  
“OH-EM-GEE”, Wade squealed, “did you just find us a ship-name?!”

Spider-Man sighed and Wade knew he’d won the jackpot, for once. He followed by throwing his arm over Spider-Man’s shoulders, holding him close as he laughed. The man didn’t pull away nor tense, and after a second, Wade relaxed and tightened his grip a little bit.

“When are we going to see your… contacts?”  
“Tonight”, Wade replied. “Meet me at 7 p.m. tonight, I’ll text you the address. And uh… I’ll give you one of my masks. They will all clam up if Spider-Man walks in, you know.”  
“I am very frightening, I know”, Spider-Man replied with false seriousness, puffing up. Even like this, he still only reached up to Wade’s shoulder. “I’ll work on that analysis in the meantime”, he added with a nod. “I’m wondering how long it’ll take the police to notice people straight up disappeared, make the link with what I told them and actually believe me.”

Wade stopped brutally.

“They didn’t believe you?”  
“Nope”, Spidey replied, popping the p. “They rarely do, and I must admit that this time it is weird enough to deserve disbelief. I mean, zombies? I fought weird villains, scary villains, but never zombies.”  
“I’m pretty sure I fought zombies once. Or was it another universe? I can’t remember, my memory is such a mess.”  
“Are you messing with me?” Spider-Man asked sceptically. “You sound awfully serious.”  
“Parallel universes, Spidey”, Wade slurred seductively.  
“Wade, even if that theory is real and there is a version of you fighting zombies, that’s not gonna help us. _You_ won’t have this experience.”  
“Actually”, Wade replied, licking his lips, “I have access to the knowledge of all alternate universes me. A perk of being able to break the fourth wall, I guess. The problem is, my mind is a bit too fucked up and it makes it hard to focus. Or remember things. Or, you know, to _think_.”  
“I can’t tell if you’re kidding me or not”, Spider-Man said, baffled.  
“I’m dead serious, Baby boy. People usually don’t believe me because I sound crazy, and because I _am_ a little bit crazy – I mean I hear voices and I have hallucinations and a bad case of PTSD so I guess – no, wait, I never meant to say that, what I wanted to say is, I sound crazy and I may not have the lights in all the rooms, but I assure you what I told you is true.”  
“You’re even worse than me when it comes to word-vomiting”, Spider-Man said in awe. “I believe you, by the way, even if it sure sounds like a lot. Anyway, I don’t think we actually need to fight the zombies. They decomposed pretty fast, and they’re merely victims either way. The real enemy is whatever turned them, and whoever made it.”  
“You don’t think it was a real, mutated virus?”  
“The chances of that are so absurdly low we might as well say inexistent”, Spider-Man replied shaking his head. “Allie, stop pulling”, he added for the retriever who very much wanted to greet a fellow dog. “No, this was man-made. Whether it is criminal or accidental is a whole other story. We’re pretty sure it was in their drug… If I wanted to test my new biological weapon, drugged people would be my target audience too. No one will really pay attention to the death of someone who often did drugs and has most likely ODed.”  
“Yeah I wouldn’t be surprised either”, Wade replied. “You wouldn’t _believe_ the things you can buy on the black market.”  
“I don’t even want to know, Wade”, Spider-Man replied.

He kept on talking, but Wade didn’t hear him. His attention was all on the Daily Bugle’s new headline: _Spider-Man finally shows his true colors, and it’s BLOOD RED!_ The front cover showed Spider-Man swinging with Deadpool on his back, and a smaller title claimed “masked menace Spider-Man was photographed yesterday evening with known criminal Deadpool”.

Wade hated the Bugle. He always had, ever since the newspaper had decided to present Spider-Man as a threat instead of the hero he actually was. He would have spoken his mind to Jameson if he hadn’t feared to smear the wall-crawler’s reputation _more_ , and now they’d gone and been photographed together. Though the photograph was, admittedly, really crappy compared to the photos P. Parker had taken all these years.

He flinched when Stanford pulled him out of his thoughts by pushing his muzzle in his hand, pressing his body against his legs. He bent and pet him with a tight smile.

“Hey there bud, what’s wrong?”

Wade looked up: Spider-Man had stopped talking, his eyes set on the Daily Bugle. Even with the mask on, Wade could totally guess his mouth was pulled into a taut line. The hero gulped and awkwardly reached to his nape.

“I’m sorry”, Wade blurted out. “I was so excited I didn’t think.”

Spider-Man shook his head.

“Don’t worry about that. Jameson has hated me from the start, he won’t stop now.”  
“This photo is crap, who took it anyway?” Wade grumbled. “Usually Parker’s photos are good at putting you to your advantage, and- Oh, Brock. No surprise then. Did you see his work for the Daily Globe? Ew. Even I can- Spidey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we finally addressed the ethical problems between them. That will come back to bite them in the ass, of course, at some point, because I wouldn't be me if I didn't write a bit of DRAMA.


	13. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter finally realises if he wants to move on... he has to do it himself.

~~ PETER ~~

“You… know the name of my photographer?” he stuttered, definitely surprised.

Wade perked up.

“Of course I do! The guy has been taking photos of you for what, nineteen years? Twenty? Almost as long as you’ve been around. He always makes your butt look delightful, you know.” Wade pointed to the newspaper. “This is crap. Where is Parker?”  
“Fired”, Peter replied curtly, bile rising in his throat at the thought of the years he spent working for Jameson, against his own masked persona. “Jameson fired him.”

Wade stilled.

“You knew him well, I guess?”

Peter debated what to tell and what to hush, and ultimately shrugged with a dry laugh.

“Twenty years, ‘Pool. We knew each other pretty well, yeah. You could even say we were friends, even though I tried not to look too close to him. He would have been in danger.”  
“Eh, you think he could take my photo? I really like his compositions, you know.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from laughing, genuinely touched by the compliment.

“I can always ask”, he offered. “If he’s not too busy, he might say yes.”

Peter looked at the time and grimaced, handing Allie’s leash to Wade.

“I should get going if I want to be done with my analysis before we meet up again”, he said. “7 p.m., I’ll be waiting for your message.” He paused. “Dress code?”  
“No dress code”, Deadpool chirped, “you can look like a hobo if you want to. Though, you know, skinny jeans would really flatter your butt.”  
“Oh they really do”, Peter purred, smirking. “You might want to not wear leather, or anything tight in the crotch area, tonight”, he added as he strolled away, casually throwing a web and swinging his way back to Brooklyn.

He was not teasing Wade, no, he was not. And he was not going to wear the skinny jeans, they were too tight and- Oh who was he kidding? He hadn’t worn anything to make himself attractive in quite few years. He wasn’t sure he still fit into said jeans, but damn if he wouldn’t try. Smiling to himself, he swiftly crawled through his window and glared at the mess that was his apartment. Yes, there was that too. It would be for tomorrow-Peter because today-Peter had things to do. Shrugging off his coat and pulling off his shoes, he switched on the light at his desk and prepared everything he would need to analyse the sample he’d gotten.

His back popped when he straightened up and then stretched, wondering what time it was: he had been so focused on his experiments and analysis, making new web-fluid on the side while he waited, that he hadn’t noticed how much time had passed. However, the painful pressure from his full bladder and rumbling stomach told him he’d been there for a few hours at least. 3 p.m, he still had some time before his little rendez-vous with Wade. He took care of the most urgent, namely peeing before he had an embarrassing accident. Second on his list was eating, but he wasn’t in the mood for cooking – he rarely was, if he was being honest – so he microwaved some instant noodles and sat down to eat it.

The timer he’d set for one of his analysis rang just as he finished his cup of coffee, which was way too bitter, and he set down to work out the results. With the experiments out of the way, understanding them wasn’t very long, but he still found himself with pieces of papers everywhere – so much that he decided to dedicate a notebook to this investigation. He had a feeling this would take time to solve. He glanced at the clock: 5 p.m. Groaning, he decided to get ready and chucked off his worn-out jeans and ridiculous t-shirt to stand in front of his small wardrobe. He managed to find the skinny jeans at the bottom of a shelf, and squeezed himself into them. Not bad, given that he hadn’t worn them in years. They were dark but not black, giving him longer legs than he really had and, yes, they did amazing things to his rear. Like make it even bubblier than usual. How… unusual.

Finding a top was, however, much harder. Why was everything he owned so… dull? And washed-out? And so goddamn _large_? No wonder M.J. hadn’t wanted him anymore, he looked so depressing! Determined to change his wardrobe once he’d gotten a job, he scribbled that on his to-do list and stacked it in front of his desk. 1 – Clean up and order home. 2 – Find a new job. 3 – Change wardrobe for something cooler. He hesitated a second, and added a 4 – Start a new life. This would probably be the hardest part, but M.J. had been really clear: there would be no second chance. Not this time. Not anymore. He’d fucked up one too many times and lost her. So he would fix the cracks that had made him lose her, and go on, hoping to be better. At least if not for her, then for…

_“If you won’t do it for me, then do it for yourself!” Mary-Jane had said, crying. “I can see you’re not happy with me anymore, and I’m no longer happy either. We’re no good for each other, but just because we’re not good for each other doesn’t mean you don’t deserve good things. More than anything else, you are my friend, Peter, and I love you. You deserve good things, and I’m no longer that thing. We both deserve… something that suits us better.”_

He took a deep breath, surprised by the unexpected flashback. In retrospective, yeah, he understood, but god if that didn’t hurt. Okay, no, fuck that. He was mad as hell and depressed and good for nothing without her. Spider-Man was the only thing he had left, so he couldn’t fuck that up.

And Wade. He had Wade, now, too.

“ _Fantastic_ , Peter”, he said out-loud. “A murderous maniac, that’s really the kind of person you need in your life right now.” He paused. “A kind guy who makes amazing pancakes and sees beyond the costume. A gentle soul who kisses like a god and makes you feel sexy and desired.”

Despite himself, he smiled. So, what. Wade was an unexpected good thing in his life, and he was going to cling onto him, like his fingers stuck to everything when he first got his powers. His eyes fell back onto his wardrobe. His problem still wasn’t solved. Unless…? He reached for a black lump of fabric and unfolded it: it was definitely way too large to be his. And the size and colours clearly identified it as a Wade item. When had he kidnapped one of Wade’s hoodies? _That night._ Wade had pulled the jacket from who knew where and wrapped it around Olivia while she was unconscious so she wouldn’t go into shock. She’d given it back to Peter, thinking it was his, and he’d held onto it, forgetting he even had it.

Throwing on one of his oversized t-shirts, he grabbed his laundry along with the jacket and made his way to the laundromat just a few meters away. One hour later, with clean and dried clothes, he made his way back home and pulled off his t-shirt, rummaging through his shelves until he found that one top he had worn like, once when he’d tried to hit the gym back in his early twenties, before realizing it was stupid and useless. The black wifebeater had been a bit loose back then, but with the years he’d gained muscles – nothing crazy, but it was enough for the top to be snug and cling in all the right places. He pulled on the jacket, rolling the sleeve’s up so they covered his wrists instead of flapping uselessly down his hands, and quickly put on socks and comfortable shoes before he grabbed his messenger bag. It was worn-out because he had used it through his college years, and then for work at the Daily Bugle, but it was strong and perfect to hold his things. Like web-fluid cartridges, a spare suit and his notebook with a pen, the cap all chewed up.

He checked his phone: Wade had sent him an address two minutes ago. Five minutes swinging, and more like twenty if he walked. Longer with public transportation, given the hour. Sighing, he slid his headphone on, plugged it in his phone and put the device in his jacket’s pocket before he left. The wind was biting that night, and he pulled the hood up, wondering if he should have shaved. But no, no, it wasn’t a date _date_ , he had to remind himself of that. He arrived at his destination with five minutes to spare and a spring in his step, his fingers tight around the strap of his bag after he’d slid his mask on. He was _ready_.


	14. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade and Peter's first "date"... at Sister Margaret's.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade had to stop and stare because, _damn_. He’d seen that butt naked, even though he’d tried to respect Spider-Man’s intimacy, but seeing it clad in tight-fitting dark jeans really did put things in perspective. He almost had his hands on that amazing, heroic ass when the spider suddenly turned and gave a squeal of surprise.

“DAMMIT Wade! Don’t creep up behind me like that! You’ll give me a heart attack!”  
“Sorry”, Wade replied sheepishly. “I wanted to touch the booty.”

Spider-Man made a heavy, overly-dramatic sigh and beckoned him closer with a crook of his finger.

“Then touch the booty so we can go.”  
“YEEPEE!”

He didn’t question the man a second time and instead took a handful of Spidery ass, letting out a sigh as Spider-Man jerked a bit and stabilized with a hand on his chest, on tip-toes because Wade was literally lifting him off the ground.

“Fuck, it’s so perfect”, he moaned, fingers kneading the muscle. “I could do this all day.”  
“Please don’t”, Spidey replied, sounding somewhat strained. “I don’t think I have the room for a hard-on.”  
“Oh baby boy, these jeans sure are _tight_ , look at you!”

Wade stepped back and gave Spider-Man a once-over, his eyebrows going up as he noticed the large jacket hanging on his leaner frame.

“Could this be my jacket?”  
“I like it”, Spider-Man said, burrowing deeper into it. “It’s warm and it’s large and comfortable.”

{Just like us.}

Wade shivered, willing his dick to calm down because his Deadpool costume was not fit for that. Clearing his throat, he reached into one of his pockets and handed a clean mask to the hero before turning away while he exchanged the masks.

“Let’s go”, Spidey said.

Wade guided him to a dingy alleyway a few meters away, one that reeked of many things and rung of raucous laughter and gravelly jokes. He loved that place, it was like a second home. A building, grey, austere and probably haunted if you asked the people living nearby, rose at the bottom of the alley. There was a rusted copper plate on the wall that claimed “Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children”, but that was all the identification needed.

“What is this place?” Spider-Man asked, coming up behind him.  
“The place where mercenaries of all kinds meet. You’ll love it.”  
“I bet I will”, Spidey replied drily as Wade opened the door and held it for him.

Inside, it was dimly lit and though not as dirty as Wade’s apartment, there were some suspicious stains on the walls, the floor and even the ceiling. It was loud inside and there were already a lot of people. Spidey squirmed, his fingers tightening on his backpack, before he followed Wade to the counter.

“You’re late”, the barman spat. “I sent you a text like three hours ago.”  
“I was busy jerking off”, Wade replied. “Two beers, Weasel, and none of that crap you serve. From your special stash, you know the one.”  
“Two?” Weasel repeated, eyebrows going up as he peered into the shadows behind Wade.  
“Hi”, Spider-Man said, stepping out from behind Wade to let Weasel see him.  
“What the fuck is that”, Weasel said, unimpressed.

Well, they’d known each other for long enough that he could hardly be surprised by the shit Wade pulled.

“My Sugar Baby”, Wade crooned, and Weasel gagged as Spider-Man broke into a fit of laughter, grabbing Wade’s arms to whisper in his ear.  
“Your _Spider_ Baby, Daddypool”, he said, grinning under the mask.

Wade sat down on a stool, waiting for Spidey to hop onto the second, but a massive guy, though not as tall as himself, took it first. Wade was about to threaten him into leaving the place when Spider-Man slid between the two of them and perched himself in Wade’s lap, completely unabashed.

“Hell I didn’t think you were serious”, Weasel said as he slid two beers on the counter.  
“I wasn’t”, Wade squeaked.  
“I’m wounded, Wade”, Spidey protested. “Alright, let’s focus. You found something, Weasly dude?”  
“It’s Weasel”, the barman retorted, “and it was Wade’s request, not yours, whoever you might be.”  
“C’mon, don’t tease”, Wade cried out. “What did you find?”

Weasel started to wipe a greasy glass and leant forward.

“Three suspicious disappearances”, he replied. “And two reports of piles of bones and blood. One ‘witness’, Joshua Jefferson. He told the police he saw a couple turn into zombies. But since he was high as a kite, they didn’t believe him. Our guy was interned in a psychiatric hospital owned by the Life Foundation.”

Wade let out a low whistle. So it probably wasn’t a one time thing, then. It would confirm Spider-Man’s suspicions. Weasel reached under the counter and slid a kraft envelope towards them. Spider-Man was about to open it, but Wade stopped him.

“Not here”, he said. “Alright. All eyes out, Wease. If there is something out of the ordinary, I want to know it.”  
“It is apparently a man-made virus”, Spider-Man intervened. “It’s transmitted through bodily fluids, as far as I can tell, but potentially any fluid injected into the body can provoke an infection if the virus is there.” He paused. “Whoever created this could poison the water main and turn New York into a desert zone in a few hours.”

Wade froze.

“So potentially, we could be facing an epidemic?”  
“Yes”, Spider-Man nodded. “Which is why all infected corpses and their belongings must be burnt. Fire is deadly to it, so sanitizing is essential.”  
“That’s literally _not_ our job”, Weasel pointed out.  
“Half of your clientele is drugged to the bones, and the other half doesn’t know what “sexually transmissible disease” means. _Bodily fluids_ , Weasel. It means spunk as well. If we let this go on unchecked, you can say goodbye to Sissy Margaret’s.”  
“Also letting people die is like, _wrong_ ”, Spider-Man pointed out, attracting quite a few gazes.

Wade snorted.

“Baby boy, you won’t convince anyone like this here”, he said. “Though you’re totally right.”  
“Really, Wade”, Weasel said, staring back at him. “I don’t know where you picked up this one, but you should bring him back. This is our _morally dubious_ sanctuary, should I remind you?”

Wade turned his head when he felt someone watching him, and there Spidey was, staring back at him. He couldn’t tell what kind of face he was making with the mask on, but he had a suspicion it wasn’t a _good_ expression. All of a sudden, and without anyone else noticing it, a glob of web-fluid shot out and landed on Weasel’s mouth, shutting him up.

“Please, shut up”, Spider-Man said, sounding tired. “I’m not here to convince you to be an upstanding citizen because it’s quite obvious I won’t find that _here_. However, there is a difference between ‘upstanding citizen’ and terrorism, and right now you’re treading that line. It might not be your job to _save_ people, but it’s the least you can do if you still want to be called human. Technically, saving people isn’t my job either.” He chuckled. “You think swinging around pays for shit? Well, it doesn’t. So now, you will shut the fuck up and open your eyes and ears, because you might just be the one we need to prevent this disaster. Are we clear?”

His eyes wide behind his glasses, Weasel nodded, and Wade realized he’d been gaping at Spider-Man. He shut his own mouth with an audible click and licked his lips.

[That was so hot.]  
{Did you feel that sexy energy? Brrr.}

Weasel sent him an accusing look, and it wasn’t hard to guess it meant “what the FUCK Wade your brought fucking SPIDER-MAN _here?”_ , or something along these lines. Wade grinned and set his chin on Spider-Man’s head.

“Can I dissolve the web, or do you need it to remain silent?”  
“Damn, Webs, please gag me next and do _whatever you want_.”

Spider-Man turned slightly to look at him, and this time the mask moved just enough to suggest a smirk.

“Don’t tempt me.”

Wade only saw his hand sliding under the too-wide sleeves of the jacket and the next second, the web keeping Weasel silent dripped down to the bar and turned into a small pool that looked suspiciously like _something else_.

The surprisingly pointy elbow that rammed in his stomach was unexpected, though, but he understood at Spidey’s hissing that he’d said that out loud. He tried to laugh through his wheezes and three broken ribs, certain the hero hadn’t meant to hit this hard.

“Oh fuck”, Weasel said, his nose scrunched up in disgust, “was that sound your _ribs?”_

Spider-Man tensed in his lap, ready to panic, and Wade gritted his teeth through the pain to grab his hips and keep him down where he was.

“That’s nothing”, he replied.  
“W-Wade, I’m _so_ sorry, I didn’t mean to-”  
“It’s alright, Webs. I like that you mess up things too, you know. You’d be too perfect otherwise.” He stared back at Weasel. “So now that we’ve all agreed to play nice and work on this together, maybe we could party a little?”  
“Wade, you’ve been betting on Flagpole for three weeks in a row”, Weasel replied, wisely not answering about the work part.  
“Yes!” Wade squeaked. “I love how he keeps getting out of things. Every single time I think, this time is the one, this time he will die… and he finds a way out!”

Spider-Man squirmed against him to follow their gazes, and it landed on the back chalkboard above the bar.

“Dead Pool? You… bet on who will die?” He gasped. “Is that where your name comes from?”  
“Ding ding! Aren’t you smart, Doctor Webs!” Wade booped his nose and smiled. “Wease here bet against me. Of course that was before I got the whole can’t-die shtick, so he’s lost two hundred dollars.”  
“Whatever you do, get out of my hair before the ten o’clock rush. It’s absolute hell”, Weasel said, grabbing a new glass and filling it for a patron.  
“You still haven’t found anyone?” Wade asked. “I thought it would be easy.”  
“I can’t exactly put an ad in the newspaper, and most people who are linked to this place already have jobs. That pay better, usually.”

Wade nodded. For two months now, Weasel had been struggling with the night-rush, as Sissy Margaret’s gained in notoriety amongst its crowd. He couldn’t serve people and have their clients’ card ready, which meant he was going spare.

“You only need a barman, though, right? Someone to serve the drinks and wash the glasses”, Wade asked, humming.  
“Yeah”, Weasel sighed. “I’m not letting anyone waltz in and disturb my trade, I’m not that stupid.”  
“You wouldn’t happen to know someone, Spidey?” Wade asked. “You think Parker would be up for this?”  
“Parker?” Weasel asked, his nose scrunching. “A reporter. Why would he want to work here?”  
“Because the pay is actually quite good when compared to what you can make in other bars, and the guy is likely in search of some work”, Wade replied.  
“Well, I don’t know”, Spider-Man replied, sounding dubious. “I’ll let him know, but I can’t promise anything else.”

Before Wade could stop him, the hero had slid down from his lap.

“Where are we going?” Wade asked, scrambling after him.  
“Well, I think dinner might be nice”, Spider-Man pointed out. “And then I have patrol.”  
“I know this taco place”, Wade started, grabbing his hand and threading their fingers together.  
“Another time”, Spidey replied. “Right now, I crave pizza.”  
“Pizza it is, then.”


	15. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finally opens Weasel's file... and he wishes he hadn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question: do you want me to put specific warnings for smut, gore and other themes of the kind in the end notes (never in the beginning notes to avoid spoiling), or are you all alright with whatever I throw at you ?

~~ PETER ~~

So, Peter _did_ crave pizza, but mostly he wanted to get out of Sissy Margaret’s. The place stank and the crowd was getting too loud for his sensitive hearing, and he didn’t like Weasel’s way too smart gaze trained on him. It felt like the guy could see right through the mask. He felt Wade nestle his palm against his own and smiled, comforted by the gesture. Swiftly, he pulled the mask up to free his nose and his mouth, breathing deeply and filling his lungs. His ears were ringing, actually, and his spider-sense had been acting up ever since he’d stepped inside. It never did anything when Wade was around, but Weasel especially had sent it reeling. It had only been this bad around freakingly dangerous villains, namely the Green Goblin and Doc Oc. Both of whom could do no wrong now that they were six feet under.

“Webs? You alright?”  
“It’s nothing”, Peter said, gasping. “It’s just, I’ve got this tingling that warns me of danger, and it didn’t agree with Sister Margaret’s crowd.”

Wade stopped, yanking his hand out from his, and Peter came to a stop as well, panicking.

“Have you been in pain this whole time around me?” the merc asked.  
“No”, Peter replied truthfully. “For some reason, my sense doesn’t warn me of your presence, which is how you managed to surprise me. It’s kind of soothing, actually.”  
“Wait a minute”, Wade scrambled. “Your danger-warning sense does _not_ react to me?!”

Peter lifted a hand in a peaceful gesture.

“It doesn’t mean you’re _not_ dangerous, only that you’re not dangerous to me.” He tilted his head. “You don’t want to hurt me, Wade. At least, that’s how I understand it.”

Deadpool seemed genuinely startled by the admission, and he hesitatingly cupped Peter’s bared cheek. His leather gloves were rough and cold against his skin, and Peter leaned into it, breathing in the smell of leather polish, gun powder, with the tangy scent of blood and alcohol. Underneath it all, there was lavender, copper, and sawdust. It shouldn’t have been good, but it was. Peter parted his lips and closed his eyes, taking in the unique scent that grounded him when all his senses were going haywire.

He opened his eyes to find Wade frozen and staring at him. Slowly, shyly, he smiled, and Wade smiled in return.

“The things you do to me, Spidey”, Wade whispered in a low, rough voice. “I was not prepared to meet you.”  
“Nor I to meet you.”  
“I’d say it feels like drowning, but drowning is not so peaceful”, Wade added.

He would have said something else if Peter’s stomach hadn’t growled loudly, making him snort instead. Gently, his gloved thumb brushed along Peter’s bottom lip, and Peter lightly bit the tip. Wade froze again, this time taking a deep breath.

“Keep on doing that, Baby Boy, and I’ll go berserk on that ass.”  
“At least, buy me dinner first”, Peter quipped, his heart hammering in his chest.

Wade groaned and pulled away, not so subtly adjusting himself in his pants.

“I swear you’ll be the death of me.”

Peter had to admit he wasn’t exactly _comfortable_ himself, but he’d brought that one on his head, so he wasn’t going to complain. He jerked his head and made a “come hither” gesture.

“C’mon, Wade. Pizzas.”

Wade was all too happy to pay for all, despite Peter’s strong protest, though he agreed to let Peter treat him next time. It implied there would be a next time, and it was more than enough for him. Peter easily swung up a building with the boxes, before he hoisted Wade to his side. There were no stars to look at, but the nightscape of Brooklyn, so far up, was a sight to behold. It wasn’t silent either, but it was remote enough to give them the impression of seclusion.

“How can you be so lean when you eat that much?” Wade asked in wonder when Peter finished his second pizza, with still garlic bread to go.

Peter licked his fingers and grabbed a piece of bread.

“Super-fast metabolism”, he replied. “You wouldn’t believe the quantities I ate as a teen. Like, you must know about teenage monstrous appetite. Couple that with super-metabolism _and_ all the exercise I got patrolling around… I was a black hole, always hungry.”

He gulped down the last bite of his bread, wiped his fingers clean and finally grabbed the kraft envelope Weasel had given them, opening it and pulling its content out. His eyebrows shot up under the mask when he recognized classified police documents, and a psychiatric assessment. The couple who had disappeared, and whom they had the quasi certainty had died gruesomely, wasn’t the kind whose disappearance made the headlines. Samuel Gordon, a mechanic in a small store in Queens, and his girlfriend, Anika Kowalski, a stripper in a high-class bar in Manhattan. His heart stopped when he read that they had a little girl, Victoria. The child had been entrusted to an orphanage in Harlem while the police searched for her parents and tried to find someone who could take her in.

He nearly rumpled the documents in his anger, but managed to stop himself in time. The couple didn’t do drugs, from what the reports said, but he learnt from their banking information that they were in dire need of money. Which meant they were vulnerable, and fit in his expectation of someone actively targeting those who were weaker and in need of help. He handed that file to Wade so he could read it and opened the second. His heart stopped when he saw the photo that accompanied the file. This one was thinner, which could easily be explained by the fact that the disappeared man was a Marine. He rubbed his eyes, thinking that maybe he’d seen wrong, but he read the name and his mouth suddenly dried.

Eugene “Flash” Thompson. Aka his biggest bully in high-school. This could only be a bad joke. He closed the file with a slap, breathing in deeply. He’d saved Flash before – when doctor Connors went mad, and from the Green Goblin. He’d even saved him once from a collapsing building, not that long ago. He couldn’t say his blood didn’t still boil when he thought about him. Which was ridiculous, it’d been _years_.

“-dey? Hey, Spidey, you hear me? What the hell, he’s broken- _White you’re not helping!”_  
“I’m fine”, he gasped, blindly reaching for Wade to pat him. “I’m fine.”  
“Dude, you don’t seem fine”, Deadpool retorted. “I’ve been speaking to you for like, five minutes, and you just stare at the void in a kinda worrying way!”  
“I know our third disappeared person”, Peter blurted out.

Wade paused at that.

“Oh.”

His hands twitching nervously, Peter got up and paced on the roof while Wade attentively read the file. He was restless, now. He had been for a moment, just because he’d had Wade so close – and _hell_ what had gone through his head, for him to sit in Wade’s lap like that?! – but now it was becoming really annoying.

“I need to swing”, he finally blurted out, opening his messenger bag to pull his suit out. “I- I need-”  
“It’s okay, Webs”, Wade replied soothingly. “I got it. You need to move. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

Peter felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as gratitude filled him. He shrugged off the jacket and folded it, swiftly pulling his tank top over his head to pull the suit on.

“Ah so you’re just going to change here”, Wade said, something in his voice strained. “Not that I don’t appreciate the show but- _holy shit_ ”, he swore as Peter shimmied out of the skinny jeans.  
“Like what you see?” he said, turning towards him with a grin.  
“You should be illegal, Spidey. _Especially_ like this, wearing my mask with the top part of your suit. Damn, I’d give my right arm just to make that underwear disappear.”

Peter shivered at the implication, even though he was already slipping into his pants and boots.

“Maybe next time”, he answered, wanting to sound confident, but his voice got strangled by his own boldness.  
“You know I’m more than willing if you want to work out nervous energy.”

Peter felt his blood pool south and let out a groan. This was _not_ the moment. He exchanged his mask under the cover of a wall and ran as fast as he could before jumping down with whoop, only catching the first measures of _I need a Hero_ belting from Wade’s phone. He swung through the streets, waving back to the children and even saving a cat from traffic. His muscles burnt from the effort, the wind whooshing in his ears, his breath coming short and yet, he felt… fine. There was nothing like swinging, like the rush of adrenaline, the free-fall and then the sudden catch when his web tensed and stopped his fall. He was out sooner than usual, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He stopped a snatcher who had stolen the bag of an old woman and gave the bag back to the lady, who gratefully gave him a Mentos she had in it.

Finally, the knot of tension in his stomach loosened and faded away. Flash had disappeared, sure, but it didn’t mean he had been killed by the virus. It could be something else and he was still alive. It could be. So he had to find him, because otherwise he would resent himself forever.

Despite his promise to catch up, Wade hadn’t moved from the roof when he came back. He was focused on the files, which he had spread around him and weighed with some of Peter’s things, and others that were… not. Like a hand-grenade, ammo, a little bottle of something, a silvery flask, and a… pair of handcuffs? Peter landed soundlessly and observed how he’d spread the information. It had seemed haphazard at first, but it wasn’t. No, he could tell there was a logic in it, it was just that he couldn’t point out what it was. He crouched by one sheet, reading through redacted confidential intel about Flash’s activities as a Marine. To be honest, there was so much redacted that he couldn’t make sense of what he was reading – but Wade had circled two names in red pastel (why did he even have red pastel?) and written beside them: the first one was Francis Freeman, labelled _Ajax_ and the second was “Lab 3: experiments with 3rd gene modification”, re-named _Weapon X_.

“You found something?” he finally asked, his gaze going back to Deadpool.  
“Yes”, Wade answered, his voice tight. “Nothing good. A huge pile of stinky shit I don’t want to touch with a ten-feet pole.” He turned around and stared straight back at Peter. “Tell me that Eugene guy isn’t someone you hold dear.”  
“He’s… not”, Peter admitted, feeling guilty about it, even though he had all the reasons to hate Flash. “I never liked him, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Especially dissolving on his feet.”  
“There are worse things than death”, Wade replied, his voice low. “For his sake, I sincerely hope he did die dissolving on his feet.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what I know”, he said. “But not now. It’s- I wasn’t expecting it, not after all these years, and I can’t- I can’t- _Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”_ Wade yelled, getting up and kicking the roof’s border repeatedly, even though Peter heard a sickening crunch on the first hit.  
“Wade, it’s alright, you don’t have to- _Wade!”_

He managed to catch him before the guy collapsed, breathing raggedly. Gently, Peter rolled the bottom part of his mask up to let him breathe easier.  
“This is a mess, Wade, but we’ll deal with it one day at a time. Okay?”  
“I wish I could go swinging like you and feel better afterwards”, Wade said. “Say, would you really get mad if I… maybe, jumped off this roof? I need to reset, Spidey, and I need to reset badly, I can’t- _Gosh, will you shut the fuck up you two?!”_  
“Yes”, Peter breathed, tightening his grip on him. “Yeah, I would. Isn’t there another way? Something that doesn’t hurt you?”  
“If there is, I haven’t found it” Wade grunted.

Peter blinked.

“Actually, I have an idea. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll fling you off the roof myself. Deal?”

Wade gulped, and Peter distinctively felt his pulse quicken.

“You sound good making threats, Spidey. You should do that more often.”  
“Shut up, Wade Wilson”, Peter replied with a tight smile.


	16. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter loses control. And it's... not bad?  
> ...  
> Why did he think it was bad, again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... have no excuse whatsoever.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade was laying with his foot in several pieces and his head in Spider-Man’s lap, which all things considered was kind of a good thing. White and Yellow were yelling, screeching and taunting, flinging his most hurtful memories at him, and he simply wanted it to _stop_.

He didn’t expect Spidey to roll up his mask and slot their mouths together in a downright filthy kiss that surprised the boxes so much they stumbled into silence. Spidey’s gloved hand cupped his jaw as the hero deepened the kiss, sucking on his bottom lip, and Wade let himself be pulled in the sinful pleasure that was Spider-Man’s mouth. He bit sharply at him, pulling a drop of blood that made the man whine in pain mixed with pleasure, breathing into his mouth just to go back to its careless plundering. And if he was fucking the hero’s mouth with his tongue, well. He’d always had vivid fantasies.

Breaking the kiss, he sat up, his foot already mostly knitted back together, and crawled to Spidey, eyeing his lips already puffy and parted on shallow breaths, the rough stubble on his jaw, the lines of the suit and landing on his crotch.

“Wade?”  
“You’re really testing my self-control tonight”, he replied, his voice tight, fingers curled into fists over his thighs. “And I don’t have much of it.”

As he said so, he pulled Spider-Man into another kiss, more languid as he mapped out his mouth, his blood roaring in his ears and heart thumping like it was trying to crawl out of his chest. Spidey’s hand curled on his nape, keeping him close, as his other grabbed his belt and tugged him forward. He lost his balance and collapsed against the hero, who went to the ground and crossed his ankles over the small of his back.

“So flexible”, Wade marvelled, mouthing at his jaw, since apparently the man didn’t care that he’d been toppled over.

White and Yellow were silent, but his mind was reeling with arousal, wanting to focus on everything that was Spidey and unable to do it. He knew, in a corner of his mind, that there were things to consider, things he’d thought about, things he ought to think about, but all that mattered at the moment was the little spider writhing under him, tugging him closer and closer.

“Now you’ve done it, Webs”, he growled, pulling the lobe of an ear out from under the mask with his teeth and worrying it as Spider-Man let out a loud, out of control moan.

He grabbed Spidey’s hips and pulled him up to rest on his thighs, bubbly ass meeting his hard, leather clad cock, and Wade gasped, ending on a moan that lost itself in Spidey’s mouth.

“Oh- Oh _fuck_ ”, Spider-Man swore most uncharacteristically, rocking his hips into him and making Wade see stars. “W-Wade, I won’t last, it’s-”  
“As it been so long since someone last touched you that your forgot what pleasure felt like?” Wade growled in his ear, meeting his wanton wriggling with aimless thrusts of his own. “Or do you have the self-control of a teenage boy?”

And Spider-Man snapped.

Wade had always wanted to see that – Spider-Man snapping and going feral. He just had never expected that it would be his fault, nor that it would go… like this. One second he was somewhat in control, if rutting against your new super-hero friend was ‘being in control’, and the next he was flying and hitting the ground hard, said hero climbing in his lap and holding him down with a hand on his torso, much too strong for a man, fingers splayed over his heart.

“Do not mock me”, Spidey growled, sitting on his hips. “Don’t you dare-”

Wade bucked his hips with a grin and Spider-Man howled, his back bowing gracefully in what would have been very painful for anyone other than him.

“Baby boy?” Wade called, slightly worried.

Spider-Man gasped and slumped against him, heavy and finally completely relaxed for the first time since they met before Sissy Margaret’s. Wade’s mouth fell open when he realized the spider had just come on top of him. That… hadn’t been expected.

“Holy shit”, he marvelled. “That was beautiful.”

Spidey let out a whine, lightly hitting his forehead repeatedly against Wade’s shoulder, shaking with nervous laughter.

“I’m all gross now. This is in the top 5 of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever done.”  
“What was?”  
“Coming too fast by rubbing myself over someone else”, Webs mumbled against his shoulder. “This was s’posed to be about you.”  
“Oh believe me I enjoyed it”, Wade wheezed, his fingers curling against the roof, his cock hard in his leather pants.

The leather pants were his only regret.

Spider-Man’s fingers cupped his crotch and Wade made a wounded sound.

“I want to make you come”, the hero whispered in a low voice against his ear.  
“Believe me that won’t be difficult”, Wade replied, focusing on his breathing rather than on the lithe fingers dancing against his crotch.

Finally, he snatched Spidey’s wrist just as he hooked his fingers in the zip-up’s cover.

“I won’t be giving you nightmares, Spidey. Don’t.”

Spider-Man pulled away slightly to stare at him, eyes thinning to show displeasure, but whatever he saw on Wade’s bare lower face was enough to convince him not to fight him on this. Instead, he shifted and easily man-handled the merc until he was on his knees, with his arms wrapped around him.

“Um- What are you doing?” Wade asked warily, though his own volition at being man-handled still surprised him.  
“Making you come too”, Spider-Man breathed, lips sliding against the corner of his mouth, before it stopped fully on it for a kiss.

His thigh rose up just as he pulled Wade down, his on-fire crotch meeting the hard muscle underneath, and Wade grunted.

“W-Webs, you…”  
“Do you think you can be good for me, Wade? Think you can come from rubbing on my thigh?”

Wade felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he shifted his stance, allowing Spider-Man to guide his movements even as he sped up. There was something utterly filthy about Spider-Mans’s voice whispering in his ear like this, something that sent his self-control through the window.

“Y-Yes”, he gasped when Spidey’s pinched his thigh.  
“Then go on. You’re being so good for me”, Spider-Man added as Wade rolled his hips down, chasing the pleasure. He didn’t care about anything else. “So, so good, Wade”, the hero purred, having apparently finally realised how much power he held over him. “Think you can come when I tell you to?”

Spider-Man’s fingers were strong on his hips, helping him up and down, making him grind into his thigh. Wade let out a whine and dropped his face in Spider-Man’s neck as he rolled down wildly.

“Y-Yes, yes, Spidey, sir- ah, yes, sir!”

The spider chuckled low in his throat and Wade shivered. This was not what he had signed for, but dammit if he wasn’t seeing it through. His pleasure coiled ready to snap, and yet unable to without Spider-Man’s assent. The simple thought of coming from a command was enough to make him twitch.

“Then come”, Spider-Man whispered sultrily, and Wade lost it.

It took him a few shaky minutes to come back, his head strangely silent, until White finally spoke.

[So are we going to address your giant praise kink or what?]  
{I didn’t even know we had this one} Yellow added, in awe. [Also can we talk about how _hot_ Spidey was just now? Damn.}

“You know what, let’s just rev back to the praise kink”, Wade replied, his eyes wide as he looked at Spider-Man without really seeing him.  
“Don’t forget that you called me sir and that was _so_ hot”, Spidey quipped, laid against him.

Apparently the hero had man-handled them to lay side by side on the roof, catching their breaths. Wade grinned and rolled, balancing on one elbow to look at him. Spider-Man’s lips were wet and shiny from their kisses, the bottom part of his cheeks flushed an endearing red, and Wade could think of so many things to do with those lips…

{Click-click, sight added to the spank-bank.}

“Yeah? You’re good at giving orders, you know. Makes me want to obey, and let’s be honest, you’re the only one who manages to do that besides Captain America.”  
“Captain- _what?”_ Spidey laughed. “Is that a name of a porn star I haven’t heard of?”  
“If only”, Wade replied with a dreamy sigh, patting Spider-Man’s thigh comfortingly. “Alternate reality, Baby Boy.”

{…Captain America porn. Spidey is living the best life I swear.}  
[…Didn’t we get a sick burn from him? How come Spidey hasn’t heard of him?]

Wade frowned. That was true. He was pretty sure Captain America existed in this reality. He turned slightly and finally saw the tight pull on Spider-Man’s lips as the guy tried no to laugh.

“YOU ASSHOLE!”

Spider-Man burst out laughing, slapping his own thigh with glee.

“OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU FELL FOR THAT”, he cackled, his laugh turning into something akin to a hyena, his gasps evoking a sea lion. He was a whole zoo by himself.  
“How did you even come up with that one?” Wade asked, shoving him a little.

Spider-Man looked at him, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.

“You’re not the only one with devious thoughts or a spank-bank. Captain America is hot as hell, for a guy his age.”  
“His ass can almost rival yours.”  
“I am offended. I thought I had the best ass.”  
“I SAID ALMOST”, Wade shrieked, launching himself at Spidey and covering his lips with his own. “There’s not booty better than yours, Webs.”

Spider-Man hummed in the kiss, his spandex covered fingers trailing down Wade’s back and tapping against the katanas’ sheaths. It was lazy and without intent, Wade simply weighing over the hero and making the most of the situation.

“As great as making out like horny teens is”, Spidey whispered, “I really have to patrol.”  
“Is there any way to convince you to stay here and keep on making out like horny teens?” Wade replied against his lips, nuzzling his cheek to kiss his neck, where the top of the costume stopped to reveal flushed skin.

Spider-Man gasped quietly and Wade filed the sensitive neck for later.

“You’re making it very hard already”, Webs said, and Wade rolled his hips down into him.  
“That’s not the only hard thing here.”

Spider-Man inhaled sharply, lips parting invitingly. Wade could feel him tremble in arousal and he prayed for the night to never end. He wanted to live in this moment forever, with a soft and pliant Spidey under him, shivering from his touch.

“I have too”, Webs said in a soft voice. “They’re counting on me to keep them safe. It’s late already.”  
“All the more reason to stay here and enjoy the time left. You’d really go out there with a crotch-full of drying jizz?” he taunted, and Spider-Man sighed heavily.  
“No, that would really be of bad taste.”

Wade couldn’t stop himself from smirking, victorious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, no excuse.


	17. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New victims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda long roller-coaster chapter...
> 
> Also, I don't know how long I can keep it up but! for the time being it'll be bi-weekly updates (so Monday, and either Wednesday or Friday, I haven't decided yet).

~~ PETER ~~

What was he doing? His self-control was gone through the window and he didn’t want the night to end – much like Wade, if the arguing was any proof. He’d just wanted to kiss Wade again, to make him feel better, to stop him from spiralling down. And, alright, yeah, he wanted to kiss him for purely lustful and selfish reasons. He hadn’t expected their brief encounter to be so passionate and desperate enough that a bit of rutting against each other would set him off. Either it had been longer than he thought, or he had great chemistry with Deadpool. It probably was a bit of both.

He flinched when Wade’s warm, broad hand, until then gently holding his side, moved slightly so that his fingernail dug harshly into the peak of his nipple, sending a jolt of painful pleasure through his body. He could also feel Deadpool’s hard length against the apex of his thigh, and the guy was really packing something down there. He would have been jealous if he didn’t have the prospect of getting acquainted with it in the near future.

“Fuck, the things you do to me ‘Pool”, he groaned, arching lightly under him.

A high-pitched scream of absolute terror rose into the night and in an instant, Peter was on his feet, hard-on forgotten as his spider-sense tickled faintly. Briskly, he gathered the strewn papers from Weasel’s folders and pushed them in his messenger bag, messily webbed to the roof.

“Want to come with?” he offered, extending his hand to the mercenary.

Wade pulled his own mask down, reminding Peter that his was still rolled up, and nodded.

“Let’s go save the widow and the orphan”, he agreed, sliding his arm around Peter’s waist, the other around his neck.

His swinging was a bit choppy from having only one hand free, but they made it to the scream’s origin quickly and without any problem. Said scream kept on, interrupted by loud sobs and loud calls for “Papa”. From above, they easily saw the little girl – she couldn’t be more than four – standing in the middle of the alleyway gloomily lighted by flickering lights. Not far away, there was a staggering silhouette quickly decomposing, but even more rapidly approaching the screaming child.  
Peter’s heart stuttered when he realized they wouldn’t make it in time.

“This doesn’t count”, Deadpool said, and surprisingly fast, he had a gun in hand – his Desert Eagle he had so gleefully boasted about when they’d cleaned up his place – and he pulled the trigger.

The zombie’s head exploded, spraying gore everywhere, and the child only screamed louder – but the zombie had collapsed, dead.

“Drop me down there”, Deadpool said. “Try to find her family.”  
“But-”  
“I can handle a child”, Wade countered, “despite what you might think, and we need to clean up ASAP. You’re not immune, as far as we know, whereas I am.”  
Peter bit his lip and gave a sharp nod.  
“Be careful”, he said, lowering them both and dropping the man in the alley.

He spared a moment to watch, worried, as Deadpool approached the little girl and pulled a piece of cloth from a pouch of his belt, putting a knee down beside her. Reassured, he swung upwards and quickly enough, he found a hysterical young man looking everywhere and calling.

“Spider-Man!” he screamed as soon as he saw him. “My daughter let go of my hand and I can’t find her, and I heard her scream but-”  
“Around four, with blonde pigtails and a green dress?”  
“YES! YOU’VE SEEN HER!”  
“Stay where you are, I’ll get her back to you as soon as possible.”  
“No, I need to see her! Where is she?”

Peter dropped down and gently grabbed the man’s shoulder. He had blonde hair too, though lighter than his daughter’s, and green eyes.

“Listen, there was an incident and right now it’s dangerous to go this way. My buddy is with her, taking care of her. So stay here, where you are safe, so we can return her to you as quickly as possible.”

He jumped up before the man could protest and made it back to the alleyway where Deadpool was still talking to the little girl. He had her wrapped in a blanket, her dress kicked away, and he’d taken his gloves off to vigorously rub her drenched hair. There was a discarded bucket at his feet, and a pool of water at the kid’s feet.

“Look!” Wade said excitedly, “it’s Spidey! He’ll take you back to your dad now, you’re all clean!”  
“Did you seriously dump a bucket-full of water on a child?!” Peter asked as he crawled down, avoiding all splatters of brain matter and blood to grab the child when Wade held her up for him.  
“The blood was probably contaminated, so I did the best I could”, Deadpool protested. “It’s not transmitted by contact, that’s what you said, right?”  
“As far as I know”, Peter replied, holding the little girl tight. “Are you hurt?” he asked her. “Even if it’s just a scratch, you must tell me.”

She shook her head, and he let out a relieved sigh. She was unlikely to have caught it – the virus acted fast, she would have been dead or nearly, by now.

“You found her family?” Deadpool asked, head tilted aside.  
“Her father”, Peter replied. “I’m taking her back to him.”  
“Alright”, Wade nodded. “I’ll start cleaning up this place, you don’t want to linger here.”  
“Try… not to make too big of a mess, alright?”  
“Can’t promise anything, baby boy”, Wade said with a wink, and Peter rolled his eyes.  
“I’m serious. An explosion is more likely to spread the virus than to kill it, you want to tread carefully here.”  
“I may be crazy but I’m not an idiot, Webs. I’m a biohazard myself, c’mon. Now shoo, her father must be worried sick.”

Peter couldn’t help his smile and he crawled a bit farther up before swinging away, the child holding onto him tightly with her green eyes opened wide. He landed near her father, who ran up to them and hugged his daughter tightly.

“Lena! Doll, never ever let go of my hand again, I was so worried! Are you alright?”

She nodded.

“…Why are you drenched? What happened?!” he asked, looking back to Peter.  
“Like I said, there was an incident and she was caught in the middle of it. She got in contact with a biohazard, so my partner did his best to clean her up. I’m sorry about the dress but it was too dangerous, we can’t risk any contamination.”

The man nodded and buried his face in his daughter’s neck, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Thank you, Spider-Man. She’s everything to me.”  
“You might want to give her a shower quickly”, Peter replied. “And… maybe consider taking her to a psychologist or something. Things got messy.”

Like a zombie getting his head blown up right in front of her, for example. That wasn’t traumatizing at all. Not so far away, Spider-Man recognized the sound of a muffled explosion. Right. Wade.

“Thank you for the advice”, the man said. “Keep on doing… your hero thing. New York needs you.”

Spider-Man smiled under his mask, saluted and swung away briskly. He could already smell the smoke, and he was surprised no one had called the firefighters yet. He landed as close as he could, the smoke obscuring everything, the warmth of the flames already reaching up to him – along with the cloying smell of burnt flesh that nearly made him gag.

“Deadpool!” he called.  
“Hey, Spidey! I, hum, I’m not really visible right now”, Wade’s voice answered from somewhere within the thick, black smoke. “But I’m nearly done!”  
“…What do you mean, ‘not really visible’?”  
“I mean buck-ass naked”, Wade hollered, “and believe me it’s not sexy.”  
“And _why_ aren’t you clothed, pray tell?”  
“I’m avoiding contamination, duh. So I’m burning my suit. As well as our corpse and everything that has blood on it.”

Peter couldn’t exactly berate him for his unlikely carefulness, but this seemed a bit over the top.

“While I’m sure you’re quite familiar with the _burning corpses_ activity, you do realize it will be a missing person? And that there will be an investigation?”  
“Duh”, Wade answered. “I found his wallet in his pocket. Burnt the wallet, kept the contents in sealed plastic bags and- OW, _bitch ass fire_ \- YES YELLOW HOW BRIGHT OF YOU.”  
“I’m genuinely impressed”, Peter answered, just as Wade launched said plastic bags, tightly bound, and he retrieved them with a web. “Now, I believe you can come out. Unless you plan to burn alive.”

The absence of answer was all the answer he needed and he took in a sharp breath, now pissed off.

“POOL.”  
“Don’t worry”, Wade replied, though now he sounded strained. “I’ll be back in no time.”  
“I will kick your fucking ass”, Peter yelled. “Don’t move, I’m coming down.”  
“Unnecessary! And unadvisable. It’s getting hot in here, though, and despite what I’d like to say, it’s not because of you.”  
“Now you’ve done it”, Peter muttered through clenched teeth.

He could see nothing, but he had his hearing and his spider-sense. It’d have to do. Swiftly, he swung into the smoke, closing his eyes when it became unbearable and going in blind. Of _course_ , Wade was standing between two walls of fire, unable to escape without getting burnt. Which he had already, if his laboured breaths and small sounds of pain – so small, in fact, that a normal ear wouldn’t have picked them up – were telling anything. It was surprisingly easy to grab him and haul him up though the grunt of pain, followed by some wriggling to wrench out of his grasp, didn’t exactly help.

They landed on a heap on a nearby roof, and Peter quickly pulled his mask up to clear his lungs. He’d inhaled some smoke, nothing his healing factor couldn’t handle, but it was still deeply unpleasant. He couldn’t imagine how Wade must have felt. He tried to open his eyes, but his tears made his vision so blurry he might as well keep them close.

“I had no intention to flash you like this”, Wade said, sounding worried.  
“I can’t see a thing”, Peter replied. “Your modesty is safe.”

Too warm hands grabbed his cheeks, their strange texture making him wonder just how burnt Wade was. Surely he would have screamed a bit more? It had to be painful… Thumbs wiped his tears and he blinked again.

“Keep your eyes close”, Wade said. “Believe me, it’s better that way. For you and for me.”  
“I’d offer you my change of clothes back on the roof, but I seriously doubt you’d fit in my pants.”

Wade huffed out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t even fit a leg in it, Webs. However, the jacket would be nice. You wore it better, of course, but if I could not be arrested for exhibitionism, it would be great.” Gently, he took his hand. “Let’s go. No swinging, just parkour. I’ll be your eyes.”

Peter had already noticed how silent Deadpool was when he tried to be, despite the combat boots and flashing personality. But now, it was even more obvious. He could barely hear the sound of his naked feet hitting the ground as they started to run. He hoped they were too high and that it was too dark for anyone to see them, he could already read the Bugle’s headline if they were caught on camera. Luckily, the roof where they had settled wasn’t that far and his eyes burnt a lot less when they got there. He heard Wade ripping his web off and blinked once more, catching a glimpse of a powerful, if very naked, silhouette. He nearly dissolved into laughter when he realised the strange lumps on Wade’s waist and thighs were his belt and his weapons. He had burnt _the suit_. Not, of course, his precious Desert Eagle.

“Thank you for saving me”, Wade said, much closer now. “You didn’t have to, but you did it anyway…”

Peter reached up to cup his cheek, accidentally poking his chest on the way up, his eyes still running water.

“You’re not dying on my watch, Wade”, he whispered. “Need a lift back home?”  
“Nah, I’ll call for my ride. Hurry back to yours, Webs. You need some good shut eye… and a shower. You’re covered in soot.”  
“Whose fault is that”, Peter grumbled. “Take care.”

He startled a bit when he felt something against his lips, but almost immediately recognized Wade’s mouth. It was a chaste kiss, over as soon as it had started, and when Peter finally managed to open his eyes, Wade was gone. He picked up his bag and found the plastic bags in it, tucking them safely down the bag before he decided to swing home.

He threw his bag in a corner and stepped into the shower, tugging off his suit there to avoid trailing soot everywhere. The hot water ran in dark rivulets to the drain, as his thoughts wandered back to his strange day. From the pancakes with Wade, to their date to Sister Margaret’s, their making-out on the roofs and the new victim, a lot had happened in one day. The reasonable part of his mind told him he should be focused on finding what was happening exactly, but his thoughts kept on going back to Wade. To his warm kisses and how good it felt. To his coming undone so quickly, blood running hot just at the thought.

He groaned when he realized his thoughts had wandered a bit _too far_ , to the image of Wade’s gloved fingers wrapped around his cock for example, and that he was now horny as hell. Like once wasn’t enough. Thank you healing factor. He glared down at his traitorous dick and thumped his head backward against the wall. There was no going to sleep like this. He thumped his head two more times, weighing his options. Before, taking the matter in his own hands had been an obvious solution. He’d stopped after MJ broke up with him, because he couldn’t get off without imagining it was her, that everything was alright – or not, that they were angrily making up on the pillow. And it hurt too much, the bittersweet pleasure soon more bitter than sweet. He couldn’t think of anyone else, so he’d just… stopped.

But now, there was Wade. There was Wade, and while he’d broken up with MJ a mere three months ago now – _three months already?_ – their sex life had been long dead. He hadn’t gotten laid in at least a year, and strangely enough, its appeal was making itself known again. He wanted – he bit into his fist, wrangling with the thoughts invading his mind. He _lusted_.

The chime of his phone going off startled him out of his meditative trance and he reached out the horrendous off-white, greying shower curtain for it. It was waterproof, and investment he’d made years ago after he’d realized how often he got tossed in something liquid as Spider-Man. He swiped his thumb on the screen to unlock it: it was a message from Wade. Damn Wade. Lovable Wade.

**From: Daddypool.**   
_Thx again for saving my ass out there, Webs._

**From: Daddypool.**   
_I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s driving me crazy._

**From: Daddypool.**   
_Well. Crazier._

**To: Daddypool.**   
_I couldn’t just let you out there to burn. You’re an asshole but you’re a lovable one.  
I can’t stop thinking about you either._

He was about to lock the phone and finish taking his shower when it started to ring. The walls were very thin and he berated himself for not simply putting it on silent, and he had to swipe several times before he managed to answer Wade’s call.

“Wade?” he said, and damn he sounded a bit breathy, and the temptation to sneak his hand down was oh so great.  
“Baby Boy”, Wade rumbled on the other side of the phone. “You should be sleeping already. What’s taking you so long? Can’t sleep?”  
“Shower”, Peter answered, leaning completely against the wall, clenching his fist so it wouldn’t roam south on its own accord.  
“Mmh”, Wade answered. “A _long_ shower. Being naughty, Spidey?”

Peter shivered and muttered a curse as his cock twitched from Wade’s voice and words.

“It’s… complicated.”  
“Are you having a sexual crisis? Because you seemed pretty confident to me. Allow me to assuage your doubts: you’re definitely into men.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Thanks, Dr. Pool, I knew that already. It’s a… different kind of crisis.”  
“Get out of that fucking shower, Spidey. You’ll use up all your hot water and get sick again.”

Peter found himself obeying before he could think about it, which was mildly disturbing. Sometimes, MJ would order him around and he used to love it. But like everything else, it tasted bitter, now. He resolutely pushed the thought of MJ out of his mind and focused on drying himself quickly, breathing sharply when he neared the crotch area.

“Well done, Spidey”, Wade praised him through the phone – he probably could hear the water pouring down and then stopping.  
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping too?” Peter asked, trying to redirect his attention as he ruffled through his clothes to find a clean pair of pyjama pants.

He thanked himself for making his laundry that afternoon when he pulled on the soft, old grey pants he was wearing down to holes.

“Definitely”, Wade answered. “Webs, you sound exhausted.”  
“I _am_ exhausted”, Peter admitted, “but my mind won’t stop working.”  
“Damn, Baby Boy, I wish I was there to help you take your mind off things.” There was a pause and he heard the sound of a car door being closed. “Want to tell me more about your crisis?”

Peter felt his heart stop. Talk about MJ and how he’d amazingly fucked things up? How much of a wreck he was? Disclose that the hero Wade adored was nothing but a smoke screen for his useless self?

“No”, he finally blurted out. “N-Not yet, at least.”  
“No pressure, Spidey”, Wade answered. “Though you should know that I absolutely don’t mind starring into your fantasies, whatever they may be. Just putting this out there.”

Peter chuckled tiredly.

“Thank you, ‘Pool. I’ll make good use of this permission.”

He heard Wade swear off the phone and the sound of a door closing.

“You’re a menace, you know that?”  
“The Bugle did call me a ‘masked menace’, yes”, Peter quipped as he flopped down onto his bed.

He didn’t want to hang up. Tomorrow was a Sunday – well, technically it was already today – and Sundays were The Worst. Because Sundays were the day he would visit Aunt May back when she was alive, a year and a half ago. Because Sundays were the day Uncle Ben died, all those years ago. Because Sunday was the day MJ had finally snapped and told him she’d had enough. Because Sundays were a wretched day he found no use for. He hated Sundays.

“’Pool”, he said softly into the phone, blinking in the dark at his ceiling, “have you ever thought that if you went to sleep and didn’t wake up, it wouldn’t be a bad thing?”

There was a pause, and a long silence, before Deadpool answered.

“All the time”, he answered in the same soft voice. “Why?”  
“Tomorrow is Sunday”, Peter answered. “I hate Sundays.”  
“What did Sunday do?”  
“Take me all the people I loved. I’m so tired, ‘Pool. So tired. I try to keep on fighting, but there’s always a new villain to catch, and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

There was a rustling at the other hand of the line, and Wade’s voice was softer and clearer when he spoke.

“It’s worth it, Spidey. You saved so many people, people who would never have come back home if not for you. You give hope to a lot of us, including myself. I’ve always looked up to you, you know. I could never be like you, but I would give anything to be as close as someone like me can be. It’s okay to be tired, Webs. But you have to keep on rising again, because that’s what you do, isn’t it?”  
“I guess it is”, Peter replied. “It’s just… so damn difficult, sometimes.”  
“For what it’s worth… Spidey, if you went to sleep and didn’t wake up, I’d be devastated.”

Peter didn’t know what to answer to that. It was like he’d been drifting in high water for so long, and finally he had something to anchor himself to, and it was… scary.

“Webs? You still with me?”  
“Yeah”, he replied, yawning. “Do you mind staying on the phone while I fall asleep?”  
“Not at all”, Wade answered. “Anything you need, Spidey.”  
“You’re too nice, Wade.”  
“No”, Wade retorted. “You only bring out what few good is left in me. Sleep tight, Spidey.”  
“Goodnight, Wade.”

Peter rolled onto his side, face tucked in his pillow, his phone just next to it. The screen told him Wade was still online, and he could hear the soft breathing of the man. Like this, it felt a bit less lonely. He could almost imagine Wade was falling asleep beside him, and the idea was strangely comforting. His lips twitched into a smile, and he slipped into sleep unaware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Peter a mess? Yes, Peter is a mess.


	18. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Boxes don't make things easy... but to be fair, neither does Spider-Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's neither Wednesday nor Friday but I'd promised another update in the week so here we are. With a. Long. Chapter.
> 
> BTW! I'm making a Spotify playlist as I write, with all the songs in this fic. Link in the end note.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade ached. Physically, because healing burns always itched horribly. But he could handle physical pain. No, Wade ached in his chest, in his heart, and while he was familiar with the concept, it didn’t mean it was easier to deal with. The day, and even more the evening, had been a roller-coaster of emotions. But now, he hurt for Spider-Man. He hurt to know his hero felt… God, he understood all too well how he felt. If he could wrangle that peculiar demon out of Spider-Man’s mind and kill it with his bare hands, he would. But he couldn’t, and while his own mental illness was a hassle to deal with, Spidey’s… hurt. It hurt something so deep within him he had thought it dead for a long time.

Spider-Man had fallen silent on the other end of the line, and Wade concluded that he was sleeping. He cut the call and took a deep breath, before getting up from his worn-out couch and untying his jacket from around his hips. Luckily, Dopinder wasn’t one to mind his appearance nor his weird, erratic behaviour. Not that the man didn’t have serious issues himself, Wade was pretty sure the whole debacle with Bandhu was unusual to say the least.

[No shit. He tasered the guy, tied him up and threw him in his trunk. ALL FOR THE LOVE OF GITA.]  
{And we all know how well that worked! This is my favourite love story!}

“I’m pretty sure killing your rival in love is considered bad manners”, Wade protested.

{Yeah but he got the girl.}  
[Fair point.]

“Yeah okay that’s fair”, Wade conceded as he made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. “And it was on our advice, might I add!”

{Everyone knows we’re such a heartbreaker.}

“And I want to know who broke Spidey’s”, he growled, roughly lathering himself in body wash. “Things were going so well too!”

[If you put aside the fact that Project X has apparently come back from the grave after _TWENTY-FIVE FUCKING YEARS_.]  
{Way to remind us that we’re like, old. Old as balls.}

“I’m pretty sure we stopped aging when we became immortal”, Wade pointed out. “Also, after all the trouble Webs went through to prevent us from dying, the least we can do is remain stable enough to, I don’t know, maybe not _commit suicide?”_

{Spidey wouldn’t like that.}  
[We would. The sweet, sweet release of death.]

“And the matching migraine? Yeah no”, Wade barked out, laughing. “No, we’re not doing that. However, that fucker Weasel could have warned us. He’s such an asshole.”

[You… You do realize you never told him the details, right? How was he supposed to know? _YOU WIPED OUT PROJECT X WHEN HE BARELY HAD ANY STUBBLE TO SPEAK OF_.]  
{He never had more than a stubble.}

Wade paused, contemplating the fact that Weasel wasn’t getting any younger. Which was a weird fact, when he’d been so young when they met. Though, given his line of work, it was a miracle he’d lived as long as he did.

“We are not wallowing in our own misery”, Wade said through gritted teeth. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. But right now, helping Spidey is more important. He said he hates Sundays because it took him all the people he loves. I don’t know whether he was being a drama queen or sincere, but we can’t leave him alone.”

{Surprise him with another breakfast! ‘And in the morning… I’m making waffles!’}  
[As tooth-rotting sweet as this is, I want to remind you we have no idea where he lives, dipshit.]

Wade towelled himself dry as he listened to White and Yellow’s unusually friendly banter. They’d both taken to Spidey, which he was grateful for. He didn’t need then spouting hate at his hero. Also, the waffles were a good idea. He collapsed on his bed and scrolled through his phone, smiling to himself at the array of Spider-Man articles he’d collected over the years. He’d always loved the guy’s witty repartee, but to find out how much of a goof he really was, and how well that worked with his own violent brand of humour, had been a true climax. Spider-Man, from up-close and personal, was even better than the swinging hero he appeared to be.

{We swing too. Both ways.}  
[Violently. With a bat.]

Wade groaned.

“Pleaaase.”

[Don’t you think it’s something we should address? First bullet point, Spidey is not as straight as we thought.]  
{Wearing a spandex costume to fight crime? He sure as hell isn’t.}  
[AND he pretty much told us this was not a ground-breaking illumination for him.]

“Bi-derman, Bi-derman, Does whatever a Bi-der can”, Wade hummed to himself in the darkness of his own bedroom.

{Oh I LOVE that song!}  
[BUT he’s still going through some sexual crisis. I’m voting for a problem with premature ejaculation.]  
{Evidence would point to that, yeah.}

“What have I told you about assuming things?”

[Not to. But since when have I ever listened to you?]

“You got me there.”

{I want to talk about our daddy issues.}  
[What the FUCK is wrong with you?!]

“How about our authority kink? We all love that one and Webs did too!”

There was a moment of merciful silence as the boxes thought back to the blessed moment Spidey had indulged them and Wade shivered at the memory of his strong hands gripping his hips, and the sound of leather meeting spandex. Spidey’s rough chuckle and his five-o’clock shadow scratching oh so deliciously against his sensitive skin. Heated kisses that had made him feel like he was fifteen again.

{You think Spidey would agree to roleplay as a military officer? Indulge us?}  
[For all we know he _could_ be retired military.]

Wade snorted.

“Yeah no, he’s not. I mean, have you _seen_ him? There’s no way he’s got military experience. But I’d love to see that bod in a uniform. Did you see those _arms_ ?”

{I want to suck him off.}

“Me too, buddy”, Wade sighed. “Maybe he’ll let us. What’s a little blowjob on a rooftop between two interventions?”

[You’re such a charmer], White said drily. [Woo him with waffles before pulling out the heavy artillery.]

“Now that’s just mean”, Wade whined. “Don’t you want to get laid too?”

[I want to know what’s going on with him before we put our heart on the line.]

“Wow slow down there cow-boy! We talked about blowing him, not proposing!”

{We could propose too}, Yellow pointed out. {I’d definitely put a ring on that.}  
[Stop burying your head in the sand. We all know this is much more than just sex for us. We’ve admired Spider-Man for pretty much our whole life, and you can’t deny we’ve already started to fall in love. There’s already not much left of our heart, we can’t have it broken again.]

Wade froze.

“White, what do you mean?”

[This could drive us over the edge. We’ve been doing better, these last few years. Trying to be stable enough for Ellie really pulled your head out of the gutter. Do you want all of this to go down the drain because your dick wants some action?]

“You’re such a killjoy, White. We can handle rejection.”

{Well we didn’t exactly handle rejection from Cap…}

“NOT YOU TOO!”

Wade sat up on his mattress.

“I have enough self-control to know it can go to shit, okay? Let me enjoy while it lasts.”

[Suit yourself.]

Wade huffed. He needed to sleep to aid his body fix the damages from the fire – more extensive than Spider-Man knew, that was for sure – but his mind went from one idea to another. The amazing sex with Spidey, Project X, the pancakes that morning, Spidey sitting in his lap at Sister Margaret’s. He closed his eyes and he saw Webs’ warm, dark brown eyes. He was sure he would never forget such a powerful gaze – like the wall-crawler could see straight to his soul, past all the ugliness and posturing. There was compassion in those eyes, not directed at him specifically but at humanity at large. There was also a heaviness he could recognize as duty.

He fell asleep without realizing and, for once, didn’t sleep a mere four to five hours but a full, ten-hours night. He woke up refreshed, if thirsty as hell, and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was noon already, so unless Spidey had slept in, he would have no use for an invitation to breakfast. Scratching his stomach, he thought that he ought to put on some clothes. Instead of doing that, though, he started the coffee-maker and pulled out everything he would need to make waffles. It was surprisingly nice to have a clean home and food in the pantry. His phone chimed just as black coffee started to pour into his mug, and he grabbed it to find a message from Spider-Man.

**From: Baby Boy.**  
_U busy?_

**To: Baby Boy.**  
_Not too busy for my favourite spider. What’s the matter?_

**From: Baby Boy.**  
_Can I swing by?_

Wade found himself smiling goofily at his phone and he hurriedly threw on a large sweat, sweatpants, socks, thin silk gloves and a clean mask, before he turned back to his waffle making.

**To: Baby Boy.**  
_Sure, anytime._

Thirty seconds later, there was a knock at his window and he nearly dropped his spoon in surprise. He hadn’t expected Spider-Man so soon, but luckily he’d dressed before answering.

[He was already here when he sent the message, there’s no other way.]

He hastily opened the window, where his new friend was waiting, already clad in spandex – but he had a backpack on. Spider-Man gracefully hopped inside, and Wade sighed.

“He’s beauty, he’s grace…”  
“I’ll punch you in the face”, Spidey completed, though his mouth quirked up in an amused grin.  
“Come in, I’m making waffles”, Wade said, ushering him inside.  
“If they’re anything like your pancakes I want in”, Webs replied, putting his bag down.  
“I am the cooking king”, Wade affirmed. He hesitated a second and finally asked: “Do you feel better? You were pretty down last night.”

Spider-Man tensed and shrugged.

“Better now that I’m here. Things have been really shitty lately and you’re pretty much the only positive thing here.” He let out a breath. “Buuut… Sleeping helped. Thank you for indulging me and staying on the phone, by the way.”  
“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not exactly a great listener but I can try. That’s what friends do, anyway.”  
“I don’t want to dump all my problems on you, Wade.”  
“Nonsense”, Wade retorted, pulling out a chair for him as he finished making the dough for the waffles. “Tell me the sob story, Yellow loves to cry.”

He could tell Spider-Man was pondering what to tell, and was sure he would opt to say nothing at all, when Spidey broke the silence.

“Well, at least it pushed me to visit my aunt’s grave. I used to visit her on Sundays, which is why…”  
“Sundays feel empty”, Wade finished. “Yeah, I know what that’s like.”

[We know too much what that’s like.]  
{I miss Blind Al. And Va-}  
[Don’t you dare say her name], White growled menacingly.

“Were you close to her?” Wade asked, genuinely curious and ignoring the boxes.  
“Very”, Spidey replied softly. “Even though she never knew I am Spider-Man. She was… like a mother to me. She raised me, and for a long time it’s been just the two of us.” The hero chuckled. “She was one of the few who could honestly call me out on my bullshit. I guess that’s why I’ve been making mistake after mistake since she died.”  
“It’s recent, then.”  
“A year and a half”, Spider-Man replied. “It’s… She lingered. She was diagnosed with a cancer, too late for anything to be done. She was such a strong woman, and I hated seeing her so diminished.” He looked down. “At the end… At the end, I think I was praying for her death. I couldn’t bear to see her suffer like this and not being able to do anything.”

Wade’s breath caught in his throat, and he had to pause for a minute, overwhelmed. He understood. He understood _way too much_.

“Cancer’s a bitch”, he finally said, turning to put the plate of waffles on the table – a bit more violently than he wanted to. “I would know, I have one.”

Spider-Man looked up to him, frown visible even through his mask.

“Didn’t you say you have a regeneration ability?”  
“Yup. Got cancer, was going to die. Got this offer for an experimental treatment where they activated mutant genes in those who had it. Did it, against my better judgment might I add. Cancer’s still here, but my regeneration is faster so I don’t die.” He looked straight back at Spider-Man. “I can tell you feel guilty for wishing her death, but believe me it was a mercy. You loved her, it’s obvious just hearing you talk about her.”

There was a silence, and Spider-Man started to sing, his voice rough and on the edge of breaking, filled with emotion:

“Death doesn't discriminate / Between the sinners and the saints / It takes and it takes and it takes…”

Wade did the only thing he could think of: keep going.

“And we keep living anyway. / We rise and we fall and we break / And we make our mistakes.”

It was obviously the right decision, because Spidey’s voice gained in power, even though it wasn’t exactly _just_ , it sounded _true_.

“And if there's a reason I'm still alive / When everyone who loves me has died / I'm willing to wait for it.”

Gently, Wade grabbed his fingers and even without seeing his face, he knew, at that moment, that they understood each other. They both knew what it meant to be alone in high water, with no light in sight.

[I’m gonna barf.]  
{Fuck you this was the best duet of all times!}

Spidey held onto his fingers tightly and closed his eyes, looking down for a few minutes, and though his shoulders were barely moving, Wade had the distinct feeling that the man under the mask was crying, mourning silently. So he held on tighter, rubbing his thumb over the spider’s knuckles in an attempt to soothe him.  
Eventually, Spider-Man took a deep breath and released his hold on Wade’s fingers.

“Thank you, Wade. For… everything.”  
“Here, have a waffle”, Wade blurted out, slapping a waffle into Spidey’s plate. “Daddypool’s are the best.”

Spider-Man chuckled and lifted his mask to free his mouth, grabbing the maple syrup Wade had apparently converted him to and squeezing some on his warm waffle. They ate in comfortable silence, the waffles doing wonders to improve Spider-Man’s spirits.

“I think I’m addicted to your cooking”, Spidey said as he licked the last sugar on his fingers, and _no Yellow this is not sexy, this is NOT._

[Who are you trying to fool, exactly? You already have a hard-on.]

“You can have my jacket back if you want”, Wade said before he could think about what he was saying – he really ought to invest into a brain-to-mouth filter.

Webs paused and stared at him through his mask.

“…It’s your jacket, though.”  
“Yeaaaaah but. You looked good in it. And you could… I don’t know, sleep in it?”

Spidey smirked.

“So you have no secret motive to want me to wear you jacket and _sleep in it?”_  
“I never said such a thing”, Wade protested. “The thought of you touching yourself with just my jacket on did _not_ cross my mind before I saw you in that damn jacket.”  
“Kinky.”  
“WILL YOU STOP KINKSHAMING ME”, Wade screeched, and Spidey laughed for the first time today, and Wade let out a relieved sigh as he smiled too.  
“I have every right and reason to kinkshame you”, he pointed out.

{I’m sure Spidey is very kinky. He dresses in spandex and uses fine bondage material to travel.}

Wade paused and burst out laughing, startling Spider-Man.

“Oh-em-gee, Yellow just called your webs bondage material! I can’t unsee it now!”  
“Damn, me neither”, Spidey groaned, thumping his head against the table.

Wade’s phone went off on the kitchen worktop behind him, and he grabbed it to find a message from Weasel.

“It’s Weasel”, he said for Spidey’s benefit. “Says he has reports about two people infected last night. One is probably the guy we found, the other is…” He re-read the message and let out a soft “fuck”.  
“What is it? Someone you knew?”  
“One of ours”, Wade replied. “Twiggy. Not that I cared about her much, but if the crowd from Sissy Margaret is getting infected already, it’s bad.” He didn’t miss Spider-Man’s confused expression. “Mercenaries get everywhere and travel internationally. Most have… let’s say, dangerous practices. We’re literally the best vessels to get this to a pandemic level.”

Spider-Man nodded and cleared away the plates, putting them in the sink.

“I have the documents from yesterday night. We could go over them again… try to find a common point. Was this Twiggy a ‘vulnerable’ person?”

Wade shook his head.

“I’ll have to do some digging but no. She was fierce, and extremely good at her job. Mostly, she took thieving jobs. She wasn’t an addict, as far as I know, and she had no money problem… or at least that I know of. Like I said, it’ll take some digging.”

Spider-Man grabbed his backpack, opened it and took out the ID from the victim they couldn’t save the previous night, along with the documents Weasel had provided them. Wade stood up and, while Spider-Man organized everything on the table, he quickly washed the dishes before he forgot to do them, and cleared a wall in the living-room.

Swiftly, he picked up the photos from the victims and stacked them to the wall, adding colour-coding from the disappeared ones, and the confirmed dead by virus exposition. There was also their asylum-bound witness, Joshua Jefferson. He added two blank sheets, that he quickly labelled “Twiggy” and “Roman Berisha”, and stepped back, only to run into Spidey who observed his work with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Your Eugene Thompson”, Wade started, “was he vulnerable too?”  
“His ego was vulnerable”, Webs replied. “I haven’t kept tabs on him, you know. We kind of hated each other. But last I saw him was when there was this explosion in the upper levels of the Daily Globe, two years ago. He was there for whatever goddamn reason and got blasted out through the window. I managed to get him in time, but there was nothing that stood out about him.”

Wade hummed and added the information on a post-it next to Eugene. Maybe it was completely unrelated. Maybe not. The guy was military, and he had disappeared two months ago already, which made him the one who’s been missing first… and potentially, patient zero. He grabbed his phone and thumbed in a message for Weasel – _need intel on Roman Berisha. Died yesterday, zombified._

“I don’t think Flash is related to this”, Spider-Man blurted out after a moment. “Look. He disappeared two months ago, right? The zombies only appeared fifteen days ago, according to the first reports of bones being found. That would bring our total of victims to seven. All incredibly close in time, and located in New York City.”  
“We can’t rule him out yet, though”, Wade retorted. “Project X… Alright”, he breathed. “You know what I told you, about the experimental protocol to activate mutant genes? How it ‘cured’ my cancer? That’s Project X, and I sincerely hope this has nothing to do with our zombies.”

Spider-Man frowned, and flipped through Flash’s heavily censored file. He needed the whole file, but it was already incredible that Weasel had managed to get all of this in so little time.

“His medical file says nothing about a cancer or anything related, however he was seriously wounded during a mission… the where is censored, of course”, he skimmed over the text, “but… oh, fuck. It says here he lost both legs eight months ago, he had to be amputated above the knees.”  
“There, you have your vulnerable. Both to Project X and to the fuckers behind our zombie virus. I’m not removing him from the chart yet, though your observation is totally true.”

Spider-Man nodded and pulled a notebook out, which he opened and quickly copied information from onto a sheet. He stacked said sheet on top of the wall after he crawled up there, along with another written VIRUS Z in red sharpie.

“You know what, ‘Pool? I wish I could have had a wall like that when I was trying to figure out who the Green Goblin was”, Spider-Man said. “Maybe I could have stopped him sooner…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1P9BTc11fXAcP2XlJ1q4YU?si=6RQHgKMuSnmI18NWYqxFvg


	19. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter takes what is probably a very, very bad decision.
> 
> But a lucrative one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is insanely long god, what was I thinking.

~~ PETER ~~

Memories – unpleasant memories – hit Peter at full speed, and he cursed himself for mentioning the Green Goblin and its two incarnations. Both dead because of him.

“Why couldn’t you?”  
“Uh?”  
“Why couldn’t you have a wall like this? Nothing stopped you”, Wade asked, clearly curious.  
“Secret identity”, Peter replied, waving at his own masked face. “And I was still living with my Aunt at that point. She already thought I was a bit too obsessed with new masked terror Spider-Man, imagine if she’d walked into my room and found a _wall_ dedicated to tracking the Green Goblin? And after that, for the second Green Goblin, I had a flatmate who would quite often burst into my room. So, no wall for me.”

“Wait- Rewind a bit, the _second Green Goblin?”_

Peter blinked. Crap, he’d never meant to reveal this. He was the only one who knew now – he’d never told MJ, god no, it would have destroyed her – and he had meant to drag this secret to his grave.

“There were _two_ Green Goblins?!” Wade asked, flapping his arms about.

Peter let out a heavy sigh.

“The Green Goblin was the first villain I fought, and also one of the most dangerous. Right up there with Doc Oc, except I knew who Doc Oc was. They’re also the only ones who discovered by real identity and used it against me. Anyway, I- I fought the first Green Goblin in the ruins of an old house, and I was clearly going to win, when he pulled off his mask.” Peter breathed. He’d never told this, but now that he had started, he couldn’t seem to stop. “He was… my best friend’s father. A man I respected and admired, and whose opinion I cared about. He was clearly confused and begged me to help him, and I- I fell for it. I was young and naïve at the time, I guess”, he added with a harsh laugh. “He had no intention of redeeming himself, he was just stalling as he got his glider in place so the blades would skewer me. I was lucky my spider-sense warned me in time and I was able to jump out of the way. He was not so lucky. He got impaled on his own glider.”

Peter made a conscious effort to unclench his fingers while Wade stared at him with his mouth gaping open.

“Before he died, he asked me- He asked me to keep the truth from his son. I couldn’t- He had become a father figure to me, I _couldn’t_ expose him for the world to see. So I shed his armour and brought him back home. His son- My best friend, he arrived and he saw Spider-Man laying the corpse of his father on a sofa. He thought I’d killed him, and rightfully so. He swore vengeance.” Peter shrugged and looked at Wade. “The Green Goblin was gone with no one knowing what had happened to him and it was enough for me. Until my best-friend discovered his father’s secret and followed in his footsteps, intent to kill Spider-Man.”  
“Damn. That’s tough”, Wade replied. “I remember now, when the Green Goblin suddenly reappeared. I’d noticed he glided differently, but I assumed he was out of practice, not that he was another person altogether…”

Peter barked out a laugh.

“My rational mind told me it couldn’t be the first Goblin because I’d seen him dead and gone to his funerals, but that didn’t stop me from seeing his ghost everywhere I went. It was actually worse when I realized it was my best friend under the mask, trying to kill me.”  
“Did he relent? When you explained what had happened?”  
“I wish”, Peter said, his mouth twisting into a complicated expression. “But no. I had taken the only family he had and betrayed our friendship… He saw nothing but a monster, and it took me a long time to stop seeing the same thing.” He paused again, the memories coming back, still oh so painful. He had loved Harry like a brother. “We fought.” His lips twisted into a smirk. “It was a Sunday, just after the bells had tolled the end of service. There was a storm that day, and it was as dark as if it’d been night. We fought until I was out of web-fluid and he’d crashed his glider. Then we brawled on the rooftops. He-” Peter gulped, no longer in the living-room with Wade but back on that rooftop during a dark, gloomy Sunday. “He tripped on the edge, and I was not fast enough. Twenty stories is a very long drop to the ground, you know.”  
“I know”, Wade said softly. “It’s no wonder that sometimes, you look like you’re carrying the world.”

_Please Peter, take the world off your shoulders._ Peter startled at the memory. MJ had begged him during one of their numerous fights. Once they were young and full of hope, and they had thought they could do this. She had believed she could stay by his side even though he was Spider-Man just as much, if not more, as he was Peter Parker. She had thought she could be strong enough to take the world off his shoulders and give him some rest, some comfort. The truth had been harsh, for the both of them.

“Anyway”, Peter said, his breathing stuttering as he gestured to the wall, “the wall thing is very cool.”  
“You can drop by anytime you want to take a look or add something”, Wade replied.  
“I won’t intrude more than I’m already doing”, Peter tutted. “This is your private space, Wade, not a conference room.”  
“You really have a hard time accepting that people might want to do nice things for you, uh”, Wade said with some bite to his voice.  
“Uh… Sorry?” Peter replied, wincing.

Wade stalked close and Peter stamped down the urge to step away from the looming mercenary. Deadpool lifted a hand and Peter’s spider-sense tingled.

“OW! THAT HURT!” he cried out when Wade gave him a fillip on the forehead.  
“I don’t want to hear ‘sorry’, I want to hear, ‘thank you Wade, I’ll take you up on the offer. It’s kind of you’. Stop apologizing for everything, I don’t care about your apologies. The only ones I want are from my marks when that’s what I was sent to get. You’re not my mark, are you?”  
“I hope not”, Peter mumbled, rubbing his brow. “You’re such a brute.”  
“Get used to it”, Wade retorted. “And stop protesting when I offer to do something.”  
“Sorry”, Peter said again, only to get harshly pinched to the thigh. “OW!”  
“If you want to apologize that much, you should consider getting into BDSM. I’m not opposed to the idea- not at all in fact, I should have said that sooner… where was I going? Ah, yes. I’m not opposed to make you cry out your apologies for all the wrongs you seem to think you’ve done, but only during a planned out scene. Capeesh?”

Peter had rarely been more grateful for the mask hiding most of his expression, because he was pretty sure he had all his emotions written on his face. He was having a hard time coming to terms with what had just happened. It wasn’t the first time someone reproached his tendency to over-apologize – _MJ, thinking about you_ – but Wade had apparently pinned down his psychology quite well in very little time. Finally, he managed to pull himself together enough to ask:

“Is that the so-called carrot or stick principle? You hurt me if I apologize?”  
“I can reward you when you don’t to get you out of the habit”, Pool offered. “I’m all in favour of using both.”  
“Stop hitting me”, Peter replied, hiding a smile.  
“I did _not_ hit you”, Deadpool protested. “I hit _on_ you.”  
“With you it’s kind of the same thing”, Peter pointed out.  
“These violent delights have violent ends / And in their triumph die, like fire and powder / Which, as they kiss, consume.”

Peter paused, gaping.

“Did you just recite some Shakespeare to me?”  
“I’m a cultivated kind of guy, you know”, Wade pointed out. “I even read Twilight.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from laughing at Wade’s antics.

“I don’t believe you”, he said, slipping his fingers under his mask to wipe his tears of laughter.

Wade seemed to be deeply offended by his disbelief, and suddenly Peter found himself with his head gently, amorously cupped in Wade’s gloved ones.

“Even more, I had never meant to love him. One thing I truly knew - knew it in the pit of my stomach, in the center of my bones, knew it from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, knew it deep in my empty chest - was how love gave someone the power to break you”, he rumbled, his voice deep and dark, and Peter shivered, entranced by how into it Wade seemed to be.  
“Alright, I’ll bite to the bait. Why did you read it?” Peter finally said, trying to regain his senses, cheeks still cupped by Wade’s hands.  
“I like to keep up to date.”  
“With vampire romance? Really, Wade?”  
“Alright you got me, I like the steamier ones”, Wade admitted, tightening his grip and in doing so squishing Peter’s cheeks in a ridiculous pout.  
“There must be something else.”  
“Yes. But I’m not telling you yet.” He released him, though he remained close, and gently traced a finger down his cheek. “We haven’t reached that level of trust yet. Maybe we never will, we don’t know where life will take us.” He seemed to consider his own words, and smiled, his teeth showing and really, Peter shouldn’t stare but Wade’s teeth were perfectly straight and white, like a Colgate ad, especially for a guy who made a job brawling. “When you take off the mask and let me see your face, when you tell me your name and I know where you live… Then I’ll tell you.”

Peter’s expression softened.

“It must be pretty important for you then”, he said. “Alright, I’ll be patient.”

He looked back at the wall again and scowled.

“I don’t know what kind of dipshit did that, but there’ll be hell to pay.”  
“That’s my line, bub. You took the wrong script”, Wade retorted. He was looking at the wall too, and finally he gestured to it with his chin. “Why do you hate him? What did he do?”

Peter followed his gaze, and fell on Flash’s picture. It was strange how, even after all these years, he resented him. He’d tried to forgive him, but Flash’s words and actions had aimed specifically to hurt him – frail, weak, nerdy Peter Parker. He’d known for a long time that Flash admired Spider-Man. No, it was a very personal kind of hate. Maybe he had changed since their high-school days – he hoped so – but he seriously doubted it. The guy had chosen a military career, after all.

“Nothing that matters here. It’s personal. It’s… my civil persona’s problem, not Spider-Man’s.”  
“So what, the things you live as Average Joe don’t matter once you got the mask on? I have serious doubts, otherwise you wouldn’t be so intent on protecting your identity.”  
“Never call me an Average Joe again”, Peter playfully threatened, trying to push back the bile rising in his throat as he recalled Flash’s abuse. “Flash was a bully when we were in school. Like I said, it’s very personal.”

Deadpool crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles bunching up, and Peter found himself staring. Again.

“He was not just ‘a’ bully”, Wade deduced. “He was yours, specifically. This guy tormented you when you were young, nubile Average Joe.”  
“Very. Personal.”

Deadpool’s stance relaxed, confusing the hell out of Peter.

“I’m glad to see you have a minimal of survival instinct. And the capacity to hold a grudge. I would be very worried otherwise. Though to be honest, if I were you, I would probably have smashed his teeth in when I got a chance.”

Under his mask, Peter flushed, and it peeked on his cheeks where the mask was rolled up.

“I… Kind of did, actually.”  
“Wow, really?” Wade asked, leaning forward in excitation.  
“I’d just gotten my powers, and I wasn’t… I didn’t become Spider-Man straight away. I was an arrogant, self-righteous little shit who just happened to have super-powers. So, yeah, when he came for me I stroke back.” He smiled sadly. “It was at school so of course my Uncle learnt about it. He told me I was changing, and it was up to me to decide what kind of man I wanted to be. That just because I had the power to strike back against someone, didn’t mean I had the right to.” He paused. “He said, ‘with great power comes great responsibilities.’”  
“I did hear that before”, Wade quipped. “I’m not a do-gooder like you, but I do agree with your Uncle on that point. My notion of good is obviously not as pure as yours, but ever since I’ve had the power to rid the world of some assholes… I did.” He paused. “For what it’s worth… I think your Uncle would be proud of the kind of man you chose to be.”

Peter laughed.

“You don’t even know my Uncle!”  
“He was obviously a wise man, and you loved him. That makes him a good man in my book.”  
“Your opinion on me is way too high, ‘Pool. I’m afraid of what will happen the day I stumble and fall from that pedestal.”  
“I help you get back up”, Wade replied with a grin. “You’re a hero, sweetie. You’re _my_ hero, and just because you’re also human doesn’t make you less worthy of my admiration. ‘'That person who helps others simply because it should or must be done, and because it is the right thing to do, is indeed without a doubt, a real superhero.' See, wiser men than me already said it.”  
“I have no idea where you pulled that from, nor how you can remember so many quotes”, Peter replied, awed.  
“I have photographic memory, when my brain doesn’t scramble it up, that is. Basically, the memories I have are all very clear, but they’re not necessarily organized chronologically or with any other kind of logic. And sometimes I straight up forget things and then it’s gone. Poof.”  
“You are an elephant.”  
“Rude, Spidey.”  
“No, listen, it’s very logical! Elephants have an incredible memory, and they’re incredibly empathetic animals. You. Are an elephant.”

Wade cocked his head aside.

“No one’s called empathetic before.”  
“Then they’re all idiots.”  
“Obviously, you’re so smart baby boy.”  
“Exactly my point”, Peter replied with a smile. “Now, I should get going. Now that your place is cleaned-up, I really have to do mine before it’s time for patrol.”  
“I’ll just assume you don’t want my help because we’re not at that point yet”, Wade said.  
“That”, Peter agreed with a nod, “and my place is a glorified broom closet. It would be really cramped with you in there.”  
“I like tight places”, Wade retorted with a wiggle of his eyebrows.  
“Really, really cramped”, Peter deadpanned. “Save the ‘huddling for warmth’ for another time, the weather is not that cold yet.”  
“What about ‘and there was only one bed’?”  
“I mean, in that case, _obviously_ things can go south”, Peter laughed. “Where did you even get that?”  
“The internet is a wild place, Spidey”, Wade replied as Peter gathered is things. “Goodbye kiss?”

He’d said it like a joke, but Peter definitely felt the current of self-doubt underneath the proposition. He crossed the room back to Wade and cupped his cheeks to peck his lips.

“Goodbye kiss”, he whispered back.  
“That’s not a kiss”, Wade protested, “that’s teasing.”  
“I _really_ don’t want to swing back home with a boner”, Peter chuckled, “so the teasing will have to do.”  
“Yeah I imagine it must be uncomfortable”, Wade mused. “See you soon? Not at tonight’s patrol because I’ll probably won’t be back from investigating our victims, but later?”  
“I’ll text you”, Peter said with a nod as he backed away and opened the window.

He had jumped and was swinging out when he heard it. Wade, leaning out the window with the speakers at full volume.

“FRIENDS NEVER SAY GOODBYE”, the merc wailed, attracting quite a few gazes from the street down below, and Peter chuckled, bit his lips and finally relented, going back towards Wade and using his phone to override Wade’s Bluetooth connection. The longing song brutally stopped and instead another, more joyous, rose.

_It's been fun but now I've got to go_  
Life it way too short to take it slow  
But before I go and hit the road  
I gotta know, 'til then,  
When can we do this again? 

Peter knew he’d made the right choice when Wade burst out laughing and blew him a kiss. Yes, they were definitely doing that again.

*

Peter was glad he had gone to Wade’s, because now he had energy to actually do things. He wondered if spending a lot of time with Wade would cause something akin to a sugar high and he had the sudden urge to find out – but no, no, he had to be a reasonable, adult human being. So he got started on housework and managed to get his place decent and have his dinner ready before it was time for him to leave for patrol.

That night, patrol was busy enough to not let him get bored, but nothing remotely interesting happened. At least he had used enough energy to get a good night of sleep before his job interview: if he could land this job, it would be perfect. His money supply was getting to a critical low, that his monstrous appetite didn’t exactly help. He was eternally grateful to Wade for feeding him and his hell-hole stomach.

He had his appointment with Mrs. Hartford at 9 a.m, so he left early enough to not get crushed in the morning rush after gulping down his coffee. It was way too early to be up and he was running on nerves and coffee, which usually didn’t make for a good combination. But it seemed that, for once, the Parker luck hadn’t struck him down. He made it in time, with a polite five minutes spare, his clothes appropriate for a job interview, clean and freshly ironed. He was cleanly shaved, he had brushed his hair and even trimmed it a bit to look cleaner. If you excused the dark circles under his eyes and the bitten down nails of his hands, he was fairly sure he looked every bit like a teacher should.

And yet, he was nervous. Mrs. Hartford was a stern woman in her fifties, with pronounced cheekbones and greying hair pulled in a tight bun. She looked quite a bit like Mrs. Jameson, his former boss’s wife, and he had been rightfully afraid of her.

“Good morning, Mr. Parker.”  
“Good morning, Mrs. Hartford. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

So far, so good. He was pleasantly surprised by how skilfully he handled the whole ordeal, and by the time he said goodbye, Mrs. Hartford’s features had relaxed into something more amenable, and she even let herself smile as he shook her hand.

“I’ll be in touch with you very soon, Mr. Parker”, she said.

The odds were in his favour. He wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not – usually, he wasn’t so lucky. So as it was, he expected things to go south dramatically.  
Mrs. Hartford called in the evening, and it wasn’t as dramatical as he expected.

“Can you tell me why I wasn’t picked?”  
“Well”, Mrs. Hartford said, “for one, you’re seriously and ridiculously overqualified. You should be working in a pharmaceutical firm, like Osborn Industries, Alchemax, Stark Industries or even the Life Foundation, not teaching high-schoolers. You are brilliant in your field, Mr. Parker, and it would be a shame to not make a good use of it. And besides, we couldn’t possibly give you the salary you ought to have. Our second reason is that you don’t have enough background working either with children or with teenagers. Another candidate fitted both those expectations perfectly, so the board chose that candidate. However, I do want to compliment you on your exemplary behaviour, and the skill you showed during the interview. I can only wish good luck in your search, and good things for the future.”  
“Thank you, Mrs. Hartford”, Peter answered before she hung up.

Overqualified. Yes, that up there was the old Parker luck. He wanted to laugh so badly he cried. Taking a breath, he opened the fridge to make himself some dinner. Mostly empty. Morose, he finally pulled the half-empty cereal box from the pantry and poured some in a bowl, along with the last of the milk. To hell with all of this, really. What other option did he have now?

_Parker? But he’s a journalist, what would he want to do here?_

Peter dropped his spoon. Weasel. Sister Margaret’s. He hadn’t seriously considered the opportunity, mostly because he really hoped to land the teaching job, and also because… well, mercenary lair. But it was just serving drinks. To a bunch of criminals, sure, but he wouldn’t do anything criminal. In fact, maybe it was even better if it was him working them rather than some innocent civilian desperate for a job. He could stop things before they escalated. Hell, he could intervene as Spider-Man with greater efficacity if he kept an eye on the offenders. The hours worked well with his biology – he was a night-owl, after all – and Spider-Man could also patrol and do good after work and during daylight hours. Yes, this was perfect. How had he not thought of it sooner?

He wolfed down the rest of his food, hesitated between donning the suit under his clothes and keeping low, and in the end decided that Weasel was cunning and dangerous. He would not wear his suit there – not yet, at least. Not for the interview. He was careful in his choice of clothes: he couldn’t wear something Weasel had seen Spider-Man wearing, so the wife-beater and the skinny jeans were automatically ruled out. The jeans he settled on were nice, if completely out of fashion, and his plaid shirt was probably three sizes too big, but it hid his web-shooters well. Would he need a CV? He didn’t know. He grabbed one, along with his phone and his wallet, and was on his way.

He found Sister Margaret’s quite easily, even though he had only gone there once, and entered after taking a deep breath. Inside, nothing had changed – nothing surprising considering he’d been there two days ago. The crowd was the same, and Weasel was still behind the counter, but no one was sitting at the bar. It seemed to be a slow night, and Peter approached as he felt quite a number of eyes turning to observe him. Weasel put down the bottle he was holding and looked at him.

“Hello”, Peter said, Weasel’s eyes boring into him. “I’m Peter. Parker. I was told you’re looking for someone to tend to the bar.”  
“Well shit”, Weasel said, gaping. “I didn’t expect _you_ to turn up.”  
“And yet here I am”, Peter said, opening his arms. “Weasel, is that it?”  
“Yeah. You ever worked in a bar before?”

Peter shook his head.

“Nope. Delivered pizzas, was a freelance photographer for a while, and then journalist. But I’m a fast learner and I’m good with my hands.”

Weasel grimaced.

“Please never say that again. I’m not the kind of boss who will stand up for you if you get harassed.”

Peter snorted.

“I didn’t expect you to be, no.”

Weasel eyed him in silence for a moment, assessing him.

“Shift starts at 7:30 p.m and ends at 3:30 a.m every day. You’ll get a twenty minutes pause to eat something because I won’t have you collapsing here. You tend to the patrons – make their drinks, refill, etc. – and you help me with clean-up before you go. I hope you don’t mind blood, or mindless violence, but if you’re here I’ll assume your friend Spidey told you what to expect.”

Peter only rose an eyebrow. Yeah, of course, Spidey had _told_ him.

“You don’t ask questions about the deals. You don’t touch the cards; you don’t take them from the guys. Drinks and cleaning, that’s all.”  
“Well I’m pretty sure I can manage that much, yeah”, Peter said with a sarcastic nod, and Weasel grinned.  
“Perfect. I give you 30$ an hour, and you keep your mouth shut about this place. Do we have a deal?”

30$ _an hour?_ Damn yes, he was definitely taking this job.

“Deal”, he agreed, shaking Weasel’s thin, bony hand – so fragile it threatened to shatter in his grip.  
“Good. Step behind the bar, I’ll show you around. You start tomorrow.”

Peter spent the next two hours learning where things where stored and how to make cocktails, though there were more than he expected, and he noted to himself to make cheat-cards he could stick under the counter while he learnt everything. There was already one notecard, with a tiny Deadpool drawn on it, and he peered at it as soon as he got a chance: it was recipe for Wade’s pancakes. Weasel seemed satisfied enough with how fast he’d adapted to Sissy Margaret’s, soon mixing the most common drinks with ease.

Peter left after exchanging numbers with his new boss – the thought that Weasel was his boss was a bit chilling, and yet the idea that the guy who ruled over the most infamous underground place employed Spider-Man was absolutely hilarious. Also… 30$ an hour? That made 240$ a night and that was, like, half of his rent. He’d finally be able to renew his wardrobe. Sure, there would be criminals all over the place, but as long as they were there, they weren’t hurting bystanders. He’d rather know there was a snake in the garden, than to wonder whether it was in the house: he could watch over them, this way. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah for Peter's backstory I picked up a lot from the first trilogy (with Tobey Maguire) except for the third movie because Venom is for later. And there was no redeeming for Harry because I am a drama queen AND I WANT PETER TO SUFFER EVEN MORE. It was mixed up a bit with Gwen's canon death. Basically? Peter B. is a mess even when it comes to having a canon backstory.


	20. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here comes [REDACTED]!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not Wednesday. It's not Friday. Have an update anyway.
> 
> It's the last time I'm making bi-weekly updates, because tomorrow is NaNo and if I want to be able to post weekly, I need to slow down a bit. (Yes, NaNo will kick my ass. Again. I'm ready.)

~~ WADE ~~

Wade was cooking sausages on the stove when he got Weasel’s message.

**From: Weasel**   
_Fucking finally! I have someone to help with the night shift.  
You’ll never guess who._

Wade didn’t even have time to ponder, his phone was already chiming again.

**From: Weasel**   
_Peter Parker. The one and only._

That made Wade pause. So Spider-Man _had_ relayed the message. And even more amazing, his photographer had taken the offer up. So much for staying safe, Peter was apparently a daredevil – Wade had guessed that years ago, from the guy’s photos, especially those of Spider-Man, though there had been that close-up from the Winter Soldier that only a man with balls of steel could have taken. And now he was going to work in the mercenary lair where Deadpool spent his time. Damn, he couldn’t wait to meet the guy. He was also fairly curious about what he would look like – not as much as he was intrigued by Spidey, but close enough.

**To: Weasel**   
_Told you the guy needed the job. You never listen to me._

His phone buzzed again, but this time it was someone else. Someone he really wanted to see… and couldn’t. Not today.

**From: Baby Boy**   
_Patrol tonight?_

**To: Baby Boy**   
_Sorry BB boy, no can do. Rain check?_

**From: Baby Boy**   
_Sure. Stay safe._

“You made dinner? I could have done it, you know. I cook too.”  
“I have no doubt you took that from me, but allow me to spoil you, Ellie”, Wade replied as Ellie closed the door and pulled off her shoes.

He cut off the fire under the sausages and put them on two plates, which he set on the table, and looked at his daughter. Ellie looked a lot like her mother, but she had his grin and his memory. He’d loved her from the moment he’d first seen her, twelve years ago. She was a teen now, and it was harder to hide things from her. On the switch side, it made conversations with her more interesting.

“How was your day?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her for a hug.

She scrunched up her nose.

“I got detention.”  
“ _Again?_ What for, this time?”

{WOOH, _that’s_ our girl!}  
[But _what if she got in danger, uh?_ ]

“Nothing you wouldn’t be proud of”, Ellie protested energetically. “I may have broken a Nazi’s nose. That’ll teach him to spout racist bullshit.”  
“That’s my girl” Wade laughed, ruffling her hair. “But you know Preston will ground you. _Again_.”

Ellie shrugged and smiled mischievously. Wade booped her nose.

“Go put your bag in your room and wash your hands, dinner is nearly ready.”

She did as he asked and sat down at the table, watching as her father whistled while he tended to the food.

“You still seeing Spider-Man?” she asked.

Wade nodded and grinned, turning to face her. For close to five years now, his Mondays and Thursdays had been dedicated to Ellie. Agent Preston had a night-shift and it was easier for her if Wade remained to take care of his daughter – all in all, a perfect arrangement for them. At first, it had been difficult for him to be functional for so much time, but by now he was getting the hang of it. There were still many things Ellie couldn’t know, but he was fairly certain he wasn’t doing too bad.

“He is the best”, Wade said with warmth as he served two plates.  
“I’m jealous he got to see your place and _I don’t_. Seriously, pops, wouldn’t it be better for you if I came over on Monday nights?”

Wade sighed and shook his head.

“We talked about this already, Ellie. It’s too dangerous. People could learn that you’re my daughter. Bad people.”  
“You taught me how to fight.”  
“Only as a precaution. Besides, my place is not child-proof.”  
“That excuse would have worked when I was like, three. I won’t put my fingers in the socket and you know it. If I remember well, _you_ were the one who electrocuted yourself last time.”  
“Don’t remind me”, Wade groaned. “No, seriously Ellie. I’m working on a thing with Spidey and it’s dangerous. I don’t want you somewhere you could be in danger. You are safe here.”

Ellie huffed, knowing she wouldn’t win that particular argument that night. They tucked into their food and she set out to tell him about her day, recounting her Nazi-smashing encounter with great detail. Once they were done, she put the dishes in the dish-washer and started it while Wade set up the TV for them to watch a movie. She huffed once more, this time in laughter, when she saw the giant pillow-fort her father had made.

“Sometimes I really wonder if you realize I’ve grown up”, she said as she crawled into the fort and settled on her stomach next to Wade.  
“There’s no age-limit for pillow-forts”, Wade replied, affronted.

They watched a dumb horror movie, laughing together, and once it was done, Wade sent her to bed while he dismantled the fort. She had wondered for a long time where and when her father slept, and her childhood self had come to the conclusion that he didn’t. Her teenage self knew he had to sleep, but she still had to see it.

She would have been surprised to learn that her younger self had been right: Wade never slept on Monday nights. He was usually too keyed-up for that, and he didn’t want Ellie to see him without his mask. It had already been hard enough when Preston had insisted he ate dinner with her instead of just watching her – that she was old enough now. Wade laid down on the couch and pulled out his phone. There was still an hour to midnight, Spidey would either already be on patrol, or getting ready to. Shrugging, he thumbed in a message:

**To: Baby Boy**   
_How’s patrol, Baby Boy?_

He didn’t really expect an answer – or at least, not immediately, but a minute later he was watching a video Spidey had taken while swinging, his phone apparently webbed to his chest. It was incredible and breathe-taking, making him itch to join the hero in his antics. Instead, he settled for a string of emojis to convey his awe. He knew he’d scored when Spider-Man replied with an incredible selfie, mid-fall, with an amazing lightning that seriously reminded him of a professional photography. He itched to be out there, swinging with him, and yet he liked to be so close to Ellie. Swiftly, he changed Spider-Man’s contact image to this selfie and replied with a bucket-full of hearts.

He dropped his phone on his chest and stared at the ceiling. One day, he hoped to present Ellie to Spidey… but it would take time. He cherished his girl too much, no matter how much he trusted Spider-Man, he couldn’t act rashly. Not anymore. Did Spider-Man have children? He doubted it. Spidey simply lacked the… vibe. And it was fine in Wade’s book, though he liked the idea of seducing single-father!Spider-Man. No, Spider-Man was a lonely soul, and that was why they had connected so well and so fast.

Thinking of Spider-Man only brought back the memories of all the things he had confided in Wade. The lingering death of his aunt, and the one of his best-friend. Wade had followed the fights between newly-discovered Spider-Man and the Green Goblin religiously, twenty years back, and… He took a breath. Spider-Man wasn’t old _now_ , even though he was tired like he was, but he had been so goddamn _young_ when it happened. No wonder he was so tired already. He couldn’t imagine how it must have been to face all of this, alone, utterly alone… Or maybe he could? He’d been alone after Project X, lost and afraid and angry… It was not the same kind of betrayal, but he wasn’t sure which was worst. At least he hadn’t been friend with anyone of the Project.

He shook himself: it never did him good to dwell on the past, and while Ellie’s presence was usually enough to shut up the boxes, he didn’t want to tempt them too much now that she was asleep – or at least, she should be sleeping. He knew she probably wasn’t, and that was also why he couldn’t bring himself to sleep when he was with her. Sitting up, he hooked in headphones so no noise would disturb her and started a game that would distract him enough, while not asking for all his braincells to act together. He paused sometimes between missions to check his phone, and chuckled to himself at the photos Spidey sent him – the thugs he’d caught, a food-truck, his feet dangling at the edge of a building, and an incredible view of Manhattan from the very top of the Empire State Building. It was wonderful… and yet, a feeling of loneliness permeated from the photo, and Wade had no idea how Spidey had done _that_ but one thing was sure: Peter Parker had serious competition in the “taking photos of Spidey” business. From the man himself, no less.

He was dozing off when his phone started to vibrate in his hand, the caller ID indicated it was the wall-crawler.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Spider-Man quipped from the other end of the line.  
“Nope”, Wade replied, popping the p. “I never sleep on Monday nights. Secret DP business.”

Spider-Man hummed.

“I wanted to warn you that my patrols will be later from now on”, he said. “If you’re still up for it.”  
“Oh?” Wade asked, more alert now, and yet keeping his voice low. “You know I’ll be meeting you no matter what.”  
“As long as it’s not Monday night”, Webs replied teasingly. “I’ll tell you where to meet me.”  
“Alright. Go to sleep now, Baby Boy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
“Goodnight, ‘Pool”, Spider-Man replied cheerfully.

Wade hang up and lowered the phone, only to startle when he saw Ellie standing in the middle of the living room, staring at him.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping? I’m pretty sure you should be sleeping. It’s like…” He checked his watch. “Three in the morning. You definitively should be sleeping.”  
“I was thirsty”, she replied, nodding to the kitchen, but there was something weird to her voice. “Was it Spider-Man?”  
“It’s rude to listen in on phone calls”, Wade chided her – even though he’d done that on more than one occasion.

She rolled her eyes and came to sit down beside him, easing herself against his side for a hug. There was a long moment of silence before he realized the light shaking he felt were the sobs wracking her body. Heartbroken, he carefully cradled her closer. He wanted to gently rub at her hair, but his gloves would make it awkward, if not painful. Steeling himself in the dark – the only source of light was the dimmed television screen – he took of his gloves and started to pet her head, trying to comfort her.

“What’s wrong, Ellie?”  
“I c-can’t tell you”, she whispered between her sobs.

And ouch, that hurt.

“Bullshit”, he replied, “you know you can tell me anything.”  
“N-No”, she shook her head.

[Maybe it would be time to worry, now.]  
{I think we’re actively trying not to panic.}

“Ellie, are you hurt? Please sweetums, I’m worried sick here.”

She perked up suddenly.

“Can I borrow your phone?” she asked, wiping her tears.

{That’s… probably not a good idea.}  
[Well, Spidey sent no dick-pic do it’s probably safe enough?]

“Alright”, he replied warily, thumbing in his password and handing it to her.  
“I’ll be back quickly”, she replied, taking the phone and running back to her bedroom.

Wade realized he was in over his head when he heard her door close. Should he call Preston? But then, Preston would probably never entrust her to him again.

{We should kill whatever bastard made her cry.}  
[Yeah, exactly.]

“We’re not good at parenting”, he lamented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you hadn't guessed Ellie is the reason Wade read Twilight. She probably talked about it at some point and he bought her the books and read them with her, even though "pops, I'm thirteen, I can read by myself just fine".


	21. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spider-Man is, once more, a hero.

~~ PETER ~~

Peter had only taken off his boots when his phone rang. Grabbing it, he answered with a laugh.

“Missing me already, ‘Pool?”  
“Spider-Man? Oh god I hope you’re Spider-Man and not his boyfriend.”

And that… was not Wade’s voice. Not at all.

“You’re not Deadpool”, he said carefully. “But I am Spider-Man, yes.”  
“Thank god”, the young girl on the other end breathed. “I got the nickname right. I need your help, Spider-Man.”  
“Tell me.”  
“My best-friend… She just got kidnapped”, the girl said. “We were on a video-call together, she was at the Aimee Triangle, between Madison and Marine Park. Please, Spider-Man. Please help her.”  
“Alright”, Peter immediately replied, sticking his phone between his shoulder and his cheek so he could pull his boots back on. “And you, are you safe where you are?”  
“Yes, don’t worry about me”, the girl replied. “She’s the one in danger. Her name’s Hope, she’s tall and slim, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a leather jacket with studs. Please, they told me not to tell anyone or they’d-” She choked on a sob. “Please”, she repeated.  
“Don’t worry”, Peter replied. “Just stay where you are. If I call back to this number, can Deadpool reach you?”  
“Yes”, she replied with a gasp. “Y-Yes.”  
“I’m going to hang up now to go after your friend, okay?”  
“Okay”, she replied. “Thank you, Spider-Man.”

This was beyond weird, and maybe it was a trap, but Peter couldn’t not go. He swung as fast as he could, and easily found Hope’s phone on the ground. Her friend had probably called quickly after…

“Spider-Man”, a voice called, and he looked around until he found a homeless man coming up to him. “A girl just got kidnapped…”  
“You saw her?” he asked urgently, and the man nodded.  
“They stuffed her in a black SUV, I think it was a Ford. Going East. They didn’t see me and they were trying to blend in so you can probably catch up to them.”  
“Thank you”, Peter called, immediately webbing his way eastward, and indeed the car was stopped at a red light among others.

It could have been any car, if his spider-sense hadn’t been tingling like crazy as soon as he got close. The windows were tinted, so he couldn’t see anything – but the car was stopped, it was his chance. He lightly, soundlessly landed on the roof of the car and stuck his fingers to it as the car started to move again. They drove with their clandestine passenger to the docks, where Peter leapt away, up to a container. The doors opened, and four armed men stepped out, dragging an unconscious girl with them. She was just a teen, but wealth was written all over her clothes. They would probably ask for a ransom.  
It was his luck that they didn’t expect him, as he easily webbed the men to the surrounding containers – until the last one pulled his gun on the girl.

“If you so much as twitch, she’s dead”, the man threatened, his gun hitting the girl’s temple.

Her eyes blinked open and almost immediately, fear settled.

“There is no need for threats”, Peter called, holding his hands up. “Please, just let the girl go.”

The man seemed to hesitate – obviously, killing the girl was a mess he didn’t want, not when it was supposed to be a simple kidnapping. Years of experience had taught Peter when was the exact moment where he could snag the gun out of the hands of a menacing thug, how to recognize it and use it to maximum efficiency. Even though it was a very delicate operation, it took a few seconds: the gun flew, Peter grabbed Hope with a web and pulled her away, and he tripped the thug. He caught Hope before she could stumble and proceeded to cocoon the gangster in a web, analysing the threats and deeming the coast clear before he turned back to Hope.

The teen ran up to him and threw herself into his arms, obviously shaken if the quake of her shoulders was anything to go by. Gently, he hugged her, trying to comfort her, petting her head.

“It’s alright, Hope, you’re safe.”

Eventually, she pulled away and wiped her cheeks.

“H-How did you find me so fast?”  
“You were very lucky”, Peter answered, smiling. “The friend you were on the phone with called me. Here”, he added, handing her back her phone. “How about calling her to reassure her? And then we’ll call the police to take you home and take care of these criminals.”  
“Thank you, Spider-Man”, Hope replied, her hands shaking as she grabbed her phone and unlocked it.

Her friend on the other end picked up as soon as it had rung, apparently, and Peter discovered a teen girl of about the same age, with black curly hair and bronze skin, who gasped out in relief when she saw Hope safe and sound, Spider-Man to her side.

“Thank you, Spider-Man. Oh- Sh- See you later, Hope!” she said before she hung up.

Afterwards, they called the police and Peter waited with Hope until they arrived before swinging away, glad the night had ended well. Even though it was close to five in the morning when he finally arrived home, and he was exhausted. He took off his suit and collapsed on his bed in his underwear, too tired to shower, and fell asleep immediately.

He slept until noon and showered then, pulling on some clothes before he headed to the closest café for a black coffee and something to eat, now that his pantry was empty. He only worked in the evening, so he had time to spend his last few dollars on food. The night’s salary would be very welcome, indeed. He also grabbed a sandwich for his pause, knowing he would also eat after patrol, and went home to cook his very late lunch. His life would be… well, he would keep strange hours, starting today, but it wasn’t like he had enough social life to make it a big deal. He pulled his suit on under his baggy clothes and clasped the web-shooters around his wrists under his long, too-large sleeves and stuffed all he would need in a backpack before heading out.

Weasel greeted him with a grunt, and his presence behind the bar quickly attracted the mercenaries attention, but all in all they weren’t numerous enough to keep him very busy yet. It was nine on the dot when a familiar red-clad figure stalked in, and for the first time Peter paid attention to how Wade's presence commanded attention. People hadn’t stopped in their tracks, no, far from it, but it was as though every single person’s attention was on the man. Not only was he tall, broad and dressed in red, but he also sported a good array of weapons, and had this… presence, about him, that made him impossible to ignore.

Peter felt strangely naked and yet ecstatic at facing Wade without his mask – without being “Spidey”, but only Peter Parker. Deadpool sat at the bar and finally looked at Peter, who smiled.

Deadpool froze.


	22. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade is pretty sure he's having a brain malfunction... he is right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ran away with me.
> 
> Fair warning, there's an idiot using a homophobic slur, but it's a quick scene and promptly dealt with.  
> Also NSFW content, and you get a warning because it's the first time.

~~WADE ~~

It had been a weird night. Ellie had come out of her room long enough to give him his phone back and Wade had panicked more than a bit when he saw a new call to “Baby Boy”. But then, close to an hour later, she had come out of her bedroom and explained what had happened, and Wade had been overwhelmed by a good number of conflicted emotions. He was proud and worried and vexed all at once – he could have brought Hope back too, Ellie should have confided in him!

But she had curled against his side and looked at him with all the seriousness she could manage so late at night, so he had listened.

“Pops”, she said, “when I’m with you, I’m not with Deadpool. I’m with my father, who is a goofy oddball. And… And tonight, I didn’t want you out in the street. Spider-Man dealt with the problem. I wanted you here, with me, because if Spider-Man hadn’t managed to bring her back and I’d been alone… I don’t know what I would have done.”

It was in moments like this that he remembered what it meant to be a father, exactly. He had spent most of his day thinking about that, before he decided to drop by Sissy Margaret’s for Peter’s first day. He was curious to see the man behind the lens.

His jaw nearly dropped when he found himself facing the infamous Peter Parker. The guy was closing in on forties, his dark brown hair streaked with white on the temples, but he was also an absolute hottie. He seemed perfectly at ease there, behind the bar, serving drinks, and then he spotted Wade and he smiled. Wade swore his heart had stopped.

Slowly, he sat on a stool, devouring the man with his eyes, moving up to finally meet his eyes. And this time, he really nearly died of a heart attack: warm brown eyes that held the weight of the world were staring back at him, and he knew these eyes, he’d seen them before, and it made sense but he couldn’t believe it – he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he-

He would have recognized Spider-Man’s eyes anywhere, they had burnt into his soul, and yet he couldn’t believe it. His gaze dropped to Peter’s left hand and sure enough, just like Spider-Man, Peter Parker sported the thin white band of skin where his wedding ring was missing. Peter Parker was Spider-Man. Spider-Man was Peter Parker. Peter Parker was absolutely gorgeous. Spider-Man had a filthy mouth and the most amazing kisses. Spider-Man and Peter Parker were one and the same.

{HOLY SHIIIIIT}  
[I wasn’t expecting this one, I admit]  
 _What do I do?_  
{Kiss him. Don’t lose that opportunity!}  
[DON’T DO IT. We’re not supposed to know. Just… act normal.]  
{…We have never acted _normal_ in our life.}

Wade gulped, and finally managed to summon a smile.

“Well, cat got your tongue?” Peter said with a quirky smile. “And here I was thinking I’d finally hear the famous Merc with a Mouth.”  
“I didn’t expect such a cutie in a dump like that”, Wade finally said – {Smooth, Wade} – “but you must be Peter.”  
“Word travels fast, I see”, Peter retorted, leaning forward. “So, what will you take?”  
“You?”

And Peter laughed and it was Spidey’s laugh and wow, Wade’s mind was blown. He had started to fall in love with Spider-Man, but Peter Parker… Peter would make him fall even harder.

“Nice try, Mr. Pool. Real smooth, too. Alas, it would seem I’m working. So, what will you take?”

And that… wasn’t a no? Of course, Peter was Spider-Man, but still. He had blushed as he answered and how was Wade supposed to survive _that?_

“A Blowjob.”

Peter’s eyebrow went up.

“You’re doing it on purpose”, he said, grabbing a glass and starting to mix the drink.  
“Who _wouldn’t_ tap that?” Wade replied, pointing at Peter, and he turned even redder.  
“Stop flirting with my barman, Wade”, Weasel cut him off. “That’s gross.”

Peter laughed and set Wade’s drink in front of him, but his fingers didn’t leave the glass – instead, they delicately fingered the rim and Wade was transfixed, his eyes glued to Peter’s fingers.

“Wade”, Peter said, and his voice was low and sultry, because apparently he delighted in flustering Wade when it should have been the opposite.

Wade’s attention snapped back to his face and there those eyes were, dark like molten chocolate, and just as warm. Peter slid the drink towards him with a smirk.

“Enjoy your Blowjob, you’ll find no better in this city.”

Wade blinked, definitely feeling himself harden in his pants, before he managed to process what Peter had said. His hand slammed against the counter.

“This is cheating, Parker!” he protested. “How dare you make innuendos to the very one who invented them?!”

Peter laughed, bright and cheerful, illuminating the whole bar, and Wade noticed how everyone seemed to be revolving around him, basking in his light. Peter was a beacon of hope in this dreary place, and they were all moths, intent to burn themselves to his fire.

[Great, now we’re Mothman.]  
{Who knows, maybe Peter is a monster-fucker. He did kiss us, after all.}  
[Don’t think about it. DON’T.]  
{We ARE into that and you know it. Ask him, Wade.}

“Shut _up_ I’m not asking _that_ , what the fuck Yellow”, Wade muttered.  
“…Is there a problem, Wade?” Peter asked, and by then Yellow was eagerly chanting monster-fucker.

Wade picked up his glass and stared into it.

“Are you into monsters? Like, would you fuck one?” he finally blurted out when Yellow wouldn’t shut up.

Peter stared back, gobsmacked, and turned as red as a tomato.

“What the _fuck_ , dude”, he chocked, turning away and going to another client to get them their drink.

[Well done. Now he hates us.]

Wade turned aside to lift his mask and gulp down his Blowjob, eyeing Peter when he passed next to him, busy with serving patrons. There was a lull about half an hour later, and Peter stopped beside him, opening his mouth like he was going to talk, but instead turning red again, closing his mouth and shaking his head before finding something else to do. Wade cheered on when a fight broke out, finished as soon as it had started with one of the dudes knocked out immediately. Peter was the one to check whether or not he was still alive, and Wade couldn’t stop himself from admiring his efficiency and professionalism: this was a dude who had first aid training and had already used it.

“He’s breathing”, he declared. “No one wins the dead pool tonight.”

As he went back to the counter, he stopped beside Wade and leaned to talk in his ear.

“It’s called xenophilia, for your information”, he hissed angrily before walking away, and Wade cackled.

Not offended, then, but feeling dreadfully called out. Spider-Man was deliciously kinky, and he rubbed his hands together in a perfectly villainous gesture. He bent over the counter to grab one of the many sheets he knew Weasel kept there, and pulled some pastels from a belt-pouch. Drawing passed time, but it was even more worth it when he slid the crude drawing towards Peter: he’d represented the bartender struggling against black tentacles, whose intentions were very obvious, and he watched with delight as Peter’s face went through a series of emotions before he managed to look back to him.

“Great art”, Peter said with a nod, folding the sheet and pocketing it. “I’m flattered.”

Then, he exchanged a few words with Weasel and opened the small private fridge, from where he took a bottle of water and a massive sandwich, before he slipped outside. Wade waited a total of five minutes before he decided to go after him. He searched for a few seconds before he heard Peter call him from above.

“Were you looking for me, per chance?”

Wade grinned and deftly climbed the fire escape to join him on the roof. He sat down beside him, legs dangling over the void, looking over the dingy block where Sissy Margaret’s was. Peter was eating, and now that they were outside of the bar, Wade could feel the tension draining out of him.

“You seem to be handling everything well”, he said. “I expected you to be overwhelmed.”  
“Well, it’s a near thing”, Peter admitted, finishing his sandwich and taking long gulps of water. “It’s very noisy, I’d be lucky to not end up with a headache.”

Wade perked up and searched through his pouches, pulling out a half-empty, pocket-sized bottle of lube, three bullets, a napkin with a phone-number scribbled on it – and he had forgotten whose number it was -, a cool stone he’d picked up for Ellie in the Rocky Mountains during his last mission there and always forgot to give her, three crumpled banknotes of a hundred each, chap-stick, a small black plastic thing he identified as a tip for stiletto heels, an Ikea pencil, three condoms that he should throw out because they were definitely torn, a bottle of pink nail polish, and finally, to Peter’s deep amusement, a box of ear plugs.

“Here, it should help”, he said as he handed him two, stuffing everything back into his pouches.  
“Thanks”, Peter said, smiling softly, sliding the plugs in his pocket. “Are you a snail, carrying your whole house with you?” he asked, chuckling.  
“Nah, only the essentials”, Wade replied.  
“You forgot that”, Peter said, noticing the bottle of nail polish. “And I should go back, it’s time.”

He climbed down without waiting, and Wade followed, clutching the bottle in his hand. There had been a time where he had loved wearing nail polish, but it had stopped when he. Well. When he no longer had nails.

{We fucking rocked that black nail polish.}

Inside, things had considerably calmed down: a good number of the patrons were either too drunk or too drugged to ask for anything, others had left on missions, and some were home. Peter was cleaning the counter, his nose wrinkled as he scrubbed at the wood. He gave in when Wade sat down on the other side, staring at him expectantly, and froze like a deer in headlights.

“Why are you looking at me like that”, he asked cautiously, and Wade brandished the nail polish.  
“Can I do your nails pretty please?”

Peter stared at him, looked around and noticed there wasn’t much to do, and sighed.

“Pink crashes with my style. Don’t you have another colour?”

Wade very much wanted to suggest red and blue but maybe that would be too obvious – or Peter would think it a wink to their common friend _Spider-Man_ , but it was too risky. Instead, he rummaged through his pouches and retrieved his crimson phosphorescent nail polish. Ellie loved it and he’d done her nails quite a number of times on Monday nights.

“Red would definitely suit you”, he said, and Peter gave him his hand.

He applied the polish with great care, admiring Peter’s hands all the while. He had long, deft fingers, with smooth nails that had recently been filed into rounded shapes. There were long, thin, white and barely visible scars all over his palms and the back of his hands, and Wade wondered what had caused them. And then, there was the tan mark of the missing ring. He brushed his thumb against it, but didn’t voice the question. Instead, Peter sighed and pulled his hand out of his grasp – luckily, Wade was done.

“Divorced”, he said. “Leave it.”

And, well. Wade could respect that, except he couldn’t understand how and why in the world anyone would divorce freaking Spider-Man, especially since he was so attractive – amongst his numerous qualities. Peter took care of another client, and then two others before someone made a comment on his painted nails.

“Nail polish?” the guy sneered, and Wade recognized one of the less civilized mercenaries who came to Sister Margaret’s. “You fags getting’ everywhere-”

Wade straightened, ready to bolt, but Peter was faster, his hand a tight grip on the guy’s collar.

“Insult me again and you won’t like what will happen”, he threatened, attracting the gazes of the other patrons.  
“Damn right”, Wade intervened, because that was not like Spidey to get riled up so easily. “This little guy is under _my_ protection, and you know me, Kyle. I don’t bargain.”

Kyle wrenched himself out of Peter’s grasp, though Wade knew that was because Peter had allowed it, and snorted, eyeing him disdainfully.

“That ain’t the only thing of yours he’s under, I guess.”

Wade was about to put him in his place, but Peter was faster.

“What, you jealous ‘cause you ain’t got any?” he taunted, smirking and imitating Kyle’s accent. “I understand, who would want to fuck scum like you? You’d have to be desperate.”

And wow, _that_ was below the belt. Wade was admirative, he didn’t think Peter had it in him. He nearly choked on laughter, and bodily shoved Kyle away.

“Scram, before I change my mind”, he growled menacingly, and Kyle relented, scurrying away.

Most people weren’t stupid enough to anger Deadpool. Kyle was stupid, but not _that_ stupid. Wade’s attention turned back to Peter.

“That was beautiful. I could kiss you right now.”  
“Please don’t”, Peter laughed. “I’m trying to remain professional here.”  
“How about the D?” Wade offered with a suggestive wiggle of his non-existent eyebrows.  
“I don’t know, what’s the offer?” Peter replied, leaning on the bar with a seductive smile, and Wade’s brain fried.

He gulped and lamely replied:

“I can think of a thing or two…”

Peter pouted, disappointed.

“Only a thing or two?”

{NO! OPEN THE FAP FOLDER, WADE!}

“I’m sure you look pretty down on your knees”, Wade blurted out.  
“I do”, Peter replied with a calm nod, even though he was now turning lobster red. “C’mon, I’m sure you can be very creative…” he glanced down, “well, when your blood is in your brain and not in your dick.”

Wade gaped, and oh this was becoming quite repetitive.

“Did you seriously just look at my boner?!”  
“It’s a nice boner”, Peter replied way too seriously. “I bet it’d fill me up quite nicely.”  
“Uh, guys, gross much?” Weasel interrupted. “Peter, we’re closing down. If you really want that D, you can get it after. And I don’t want to know”, he warned with a pointed look to Wade.  
“Like I ever brag about getting laid.”  
“Excuse-me?!” Weasel said indignantly. “Just the other day you told me you rutted against Spider-Man’s leg like a dog, and that’s _way_ more details than I ever wanted to hear.”  
“I want to hear more”, Peter countered. “That sounds hot, I can almost picture it.”

If looks could kill, Weasel would have properly executed Peter right there and then, and Wade couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Weasel gave Peter a sharp slap behind the head, which Peter could have easily avoided but that made him grin like a fool.

“Seems like I’m already corrupting the new guy”, Wade said. “Time to go home. See ya later, Petey-pie.”

He didn’t actually have time to go home if he was meeting Spider-Man, but he had enough time to buy a bag of chips and down it. Around thirty minutes later, he got a message from the masked vigilante, telling him to meet him at a precise rooftop in ten. He was there well before the ten minutes were gone, but so was Spidey, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the sight of that bubble-butt. It looked better clad in spandex than it did in those ragged jeans Peter had been wearing, and he didn’t really try to stop himself from giving it a slap.

He hadn’t been ready for the loud gasp that fell from Spider-Man’s lips, the sound going straight to his cock as the wall-crawler turned around to stare at him.

“…If you tell me to never do that again, I won’t listen because I’m like, 98% sure you have a spanking kink”, Wade said.

{Of course he does, why else would he wiggle that butt right where we can spank it?}  
[Your reasoning, like always, is sorely lacking, but I have to agree this was a good sound.]

Spider-Man rose a finger, pointing it just under Wade’s nose.

“Never do that before patrol again.”  
{…Does that mean that after patrol is fair game?}  
“You do realize you just sold your soul to the devil?”

He was pretty sure Peter was smiling under that mask at the moment.

“I’m sure you can hit harder, and then it’ll be worth it. Now, c’mon. New York won’t save itself.”

The crowd wasn’t the same, in the middle of the night. Club-goers staggering drunkenly across the street, and way more burglars than just after midnight. It wasn’t exactly easy to not unalive anyone, which was why Wade only used his hand-to-hand combat skills and a sling-shot he’d bought a few days ago. Not as impressive as a bazooka, sure, but damn effective when it came to disarm criminals without killing or maiming them. The night was at its darkest then, hiding them under its cover.  
Spidey had been about to call it a night, around five in the morning, probably exhausted by his exceptionally long day, when they heard the crash. They rushed to the scene, only to find a clan breaking into a drugstore. It would have been routine if they hadn’t been trained professionals instead of the simple burglars they were trying to impersonate. Wade saw it as soon as they started to move to retaliate Spidey’s web-shooting, and Spider-Man had seriously under-estimated the threat.

“Careful, Webs!” he called as he jumped into the fray, splintering an ankle in the process and ouch, that still hurt, yep.

Peter realized his mistake just a little too late, when one of the guys tasered him in the stomach, sending him down from the shock.

“WEBS! Now you’ve done it”, he growled, pocketing his sling-shot and getting out Bea and Arthur.

They might have been trained, but he was immortal and had a fuck-ton of experience on them, whoever they were. He skilfully knocked them out with the handles of his katanas, despite his desire to dice and slice, tying them up tightly to leave them gift wrapped for the police. Spider-Man was already groaning and stretching as he got up, and he looked positively murderous.

“Let’s go”, Wade urged him as he heard the sirens in the distance, closing in on them.

Spider-Man grabbed his waist and pulled him harshly against him, shooting a web and swinging them through the city to a roof high enough to be away from everything. Wade could tell his heart was pounding, he could also feel the adrenaline coursing through his own veins. It was not hard to guess Peter was feeling the same. They landed quite roughly on the rooftop, but Webs didn’t let him go. Instead, he held him tighter, breathing short and ragged, fingers digging into his flesh.

“Fuck”, he cursed, “that was a closed one.” His fingers squeezed. “That was magnificent, Wade. You handled that brilliantly.”  
“Do I get a reward?” Wade said with a smirk.  
“Damn yes”, Peter replied, quickly rolling both their masks up to smash their lips together.

It was rough and it was raw and it was all Wade needed at the moment. Peter bit down on his lower lip and Wade moaned into his mouth, needing more, anything, as he met Peter with just as much force.

“Let me blow you”, Wade finally whispered against his jaw. “I can’t stop thinking about it… Your cock down my throat, I bet you taste so good.” He smirked against his skin, dragging his lips to Peter’s ear. “I don’t have a gag reflex, I bet you’ll like it.”

Peter tensed with desire against him, taking in a deep breath.

“Fuck yes”, he finally replied, tugging Wade down to kiss him again, “yes, Wade.”  
“I love it when you call my name”, Wade confessed, shoving Peter against a nearby wall that was in reality a massive chimney, but it didn’t really matter, he had his hand over Spidey’s crotch and it made his mouth water just to think about it.  
“Wade”, Spider-Man called breathily, bearing down on his shoulders and sending him down to his knees. “Put your mouth to good use for once”, he growled, and Wade shivered at the sheer power exuding his voice.

He slid his hands up from his knees to the very thin waistband of his pants and pulled it down, baring Peter’s cock, his ass and the top of his thighs, his skin immediately erupting in goosebumps, both at the touch and at the cold air of the night.

{Oh he’s _perfect_ }, Yellow moaned.  
[What are you waiting for?!] White urged him, and Wade admired that cock already hard and leaking, longer than he expected, and yeah he wanted it in his mouth _yesterday_.

Any other time, he would probably had teased and made Spidey wait and beg, but tonight he was too horny to have any finesse. Instead, he dragged his tongue from base to tip and suckled on the crown, tongue lathering it and gathering the precum leaking steadily to taste it. To taste _him_ , Spidey, Peter.

Spidey let out a breathy moan, his fingers cupping Wade’s head, and part of him wanted the hero to just shove him down and make him choke over him. Instead, though, he gathered saliva in his mouth and let it dribble down the warm, throbbing flesh before he slid down. He stopped about halfway there, delighting in the weight on his tongue, the warmth filling him, the taste invading his mouth, and Webs delicious groans of pleasure.

“Ah- Wade, your mouth feels so good”, he said, “like you were meant for this”, and Wade looked up to meet his eyes, daring him to say more. “Like you were meant to suck my cock”, he added, challenging him. “Your lips part prettily ‘round it, you know.”

Wade hummed, pleased, his own cock so hard in the constricting leather pants it was painful. He had half the mind to palm himself, but he wanted to focus on this – on the feel of Spidey in his mouth, on the pleasure he gave him. He pulled back, sucking on the head as he stared back into the eyes of the mask, running light, gloved fingers along what wasn’t in his mouth. And then, he dove down, throat relaxing when Peter hit it and slid down, until Wade’s nose was shoved against his pubes, his eyes watering from the strain. He let his throat contract rhythmically around him, breathing through his nose, before he pulled up and away, a string of saliva linking his lips to Peter’s cock.

Spider-Man gripped himself roughly, squeezing with a groan, trying not to fall apart, and Wade shook with exhilaration at the thought that _he_ did that. Slowly, Spidey let go of himself to cup Wade’s chin, thumb dragging over his wet lips.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he whispered breathily. “Are you waiting for me to do all the work?”

Wade shook his head, grinning, and made a show of licking up Peter’s cock, staring at him through the lenses of his mask and mouthing on the sides of his dick, teasing, his thumb rubbing at the head and smearing the precum around. Lightly, he dragged his gloved fingers around him, watching Spider-Man shiver.

“You’re perfect”, he whispered.  
“You say th- mmh, Wade!” Peter moaned, his fingers scrabbling at his head uselessly as the heat and tight sheath of Wade’s throat engulfed him once more. “Yes! Yes, Wade, just like this! Fuck, you feel so good, taking me so good, precious-”

His babbling was all the encouragement Wade needed to speed up the bobbing of his head, keeping him warm and wet, acknowledging his cries of “gonna cum, Wade, precious, please, gonna cum” with a hum around his length and pulling off just as the man shot his load, leaving his mouth open to catch all of it, feeling it hit mostly his tongue, but some also landed on the tip of his nose, and on his chin. Peter had slumped forward, but he was staring at him, panting heavily.

“Fuck, that was awesome”, he gasped. “Wait no don’t-” Wade swallowed, and Peter cringed under his mask “-do that”, he finished. “That was definitely super hot but that’s also the perfect way to get jizz breath, you know?”  
“Is that your way of telling me you will not kiss me until I’ve brushed my teeth?” Wade grinned, leaning his cheek against Peter’s bare thigh.  
“Mmh. You’re lucky we’re done with patrol for tonight”, Peter said, grabbing him by the straps of his suit and hauling him upright for a bruising kiss.

Wade hissed when the webbed-wonder cupped his crotch, his hard-on more than painful by now.

“That’s painful, isn’t it? My precious…”


	23. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They might have traded BJs, but Wade's certainly not off the hook yet.
> 
> And if my "hook" Peter means his determination to have him unravel under his touch, well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my buddies of Isn't It Bromantic who helped me figure out how to make the smut work.
> 
> _Blindfolds_ *sigh*
> 
> Also... the daddy kink is strong in this one. That wasn't planned.

~~ PETER ~~

So, Peter hadn’t meant to break the mood by doing his best impression of Gollum, but Wade had burst out laughing and he found himself snickering alongside him.

“You _had_ to do that, didn’t you?” Wade chortled, kissing him as he grinned. “You’re so perfect, baby boy.”  
“I can be even better”, Peter purred, rubbing his fingers more firmly against the hard line of his cock. “On one condition.”  
“Speak away”, Wade grinned, rolling his hips into his grasp.  
“If you call me daddy.”  
“Oooh, daddy kink? We delving into that now? _Daddy_.”  
“Mmh, perfect, _trésor_. I’ll make you feel so good, Wade”, he whispered, nipping at his lips as he started to open his flies.  
“Nope, no horror show tonight”, Wade quipped.

Peter sighed. Of course, Wade’s insecurities would come into play now.

“You’d let me if I was blindfolded?”  
“Uh, care to say that again?”  
“Can I get my hands on you if I’m blindfolded?” Peter repeated.

Wade gulped visibly, and nodded.

“Yeah… Yeah I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”  
“Good. You have something we can use, or do I make do with my web-fluid?”  
“Gimme a sec”, Wade said, pilfering through his pouches and pulling out things.  
“Wade, that’s a dirty sock. Why do you have a single dirty sock.”  
“You ask the wrong question, Webs. What did the sock _do_?” Wade replied as he kept on searching. “Ahah! I knew I had something.”  
“A silk scarf. Yeah, it’ll do”, Peter said with a nod, taking it and looping it over his eyes, knotting it tightly to it wouldn’t slip. “Can’t see a thing. Whoo, we getting’ into sensory deprivation already?”, he asked, grinning.  
“I mean, you don’t have to just take care of me, we can-”

Peter held up a finger against his lips, though he missed a bit and almost shoved it up his nose, shutting him up.

“Nope, we can’t, because you just sucked my brain through my dick and I’m no longer a young man with a crazy refractory period. I’ll need _at least_ twenty minutes before I can go again, but I’m plenty good with just getting you off over and over until you feel like you can’t anymore.”  
“…You know what, that threat was actually hot”, Wade breathed. “Okay.”

Peter shimmied back into his pants, before sitting down and holding his hands up to Wade.

“Come down, Wade. And I know you keep lube in your pouches so take it too.”  
“Who doesn’t?”  
“Most people?” Peter retorted.

There was the sound of shuffling above him, and then he felt the heat of Wade’s body over his thighs as the man knelt over him, looming. He shivered still when Wade planted a kiss on his lips, cupping his jaw. Carefully, he took off his gloves, tucking them under his butt, and held his hand out for the lube.

“Hold on”, Wade said, wiggling above him, “okay, hum…”

And Peter could feel the uncertainty coming from him, and he smiled, planting a kiss on the closest body part, which happened to be a leather-covered shoulder. Wade snorted in laughter.

“Here”, he redirected him to his mouth, and Peter sucked his tongue into his mouth, a hand on his nape.  
“Tell me what you want, precious”, Peter rumbled, and he loved how Wade squirmed at the term of endearment.  
“Finger me?” Wade replied tentatively. “Please, ba-”

Peter clicked his tongue, and Wade sucked in a breath.

“You’re really going to make me say it?”  
“To make you come with my fingers up your ass? Hell yeah”, Peter confirmed, smirking. “C’mon, _trésor_ , I know you’ve got it in you.”  
“I _don’t_ and that’s precisely the problem”, Wade grumbled sulkily, shifting on his knees. “ _Please_ , daddy, I need your fingers in me”, Wade said, before dropping his forehead on Peter’s shoulder, mortified.  
“Good”, Peter said, closing his fingers around the bottle of lube and squeezing some in his palm, lathering it over his fingers.

He loved how Wade, without realizing, relaxed in his hold whenever Peter took control. There was something about the lax way his large frame hang, something that hooked into his core and made him warm all over, and he wasn’t sure about what it was exactly. But he liked it. Getting Wade to admit it, however, was a whole other can of worms.

“I don’t want to get lube all over your suit, precious. Where’s your cock?”

Wade took his hand in his shaking own and slowly wrapped his fingers around his dick, and Peter shivered at the sheer size of it. The tip of his fingers barely touched, and he let out a breathy “fuck” as he slowly started to drag his hand up and down, spreading lube all over him.

“You’re so big”, he said in awe. “It’s… wow. I’m not taking that without prior prep, that’s for sure.”

Wade moaned against his shoulder, his arms loosely wrapped around him but fingers gripping at his suit tightly. Slowly, Peter’s fingers slid down, cupping his balls, rolling them in his palms and delighting in Wade’s tensed gasps, on the choked, bitten off, muffled moans wetting his shoulder.

“Feeling that good, uh?” Peter whispered.

He could definitely feel the bumps and ridges of Wade’s skin against his hands, and he desperately liked it. Then, he firmly rubbed the pad of his middle finger against Wade’s taint, and this time, the merc bit down onto his clothed shoulder to keep in his ragged moan of pleasure. He slid farther, over his hole, and rubbed hard circles into the flesh there, Wade shaking more and more as he slumped against him, and Peter was thankful for his super-strength.

“Webs, please”, Wade whined. “ _Please_.”  
“Hush, I’ve got you”, Peter whispered, easily sliding a finger in since Wade had relaxed so much. “Just let me-”

He crooked his finger, rubbing it inside the merc, trying to find that perfect spot to make him cry out in pleasure. He let out a triumphant chuckle when Wade sobbed in his shoulder.

“ _There_ , fuck, please, please, I’m so close!”

Peter smiled and added a second finger, thrusting them steadily and nailing Wade’s prostate each time, feeling him thrash around in his hold, chasing his orgasm and yet not getting there, not without that something to help him cross over the edge.

“You’re so soft around me, _trésor_ ”, he breathed. “So soft and so warm, taking me in so eagerly… Tell me precious, is that good? Do you like having my fingers up your ass?”

He was starting to think maybe he wouldn’t need twenty minutes this time, with how hot Wade was in his lap, his cock poking his stomach every time he rolled his hips forward to thrust back into his fingers.

“So good”, Wade gasped, unlatching his teeth from around his shoulder, “please!”  
“You can come anytime you want, precious”, Peter whispered seductively, “let me hear you”, he added as he hitched Wade up and fumbled a bit to get his cock in his mouth as he worked his fingers up into him.

The loud, throaty moan that fell from Wade’s mouth was the best symphony, and Peter thrusted his fingers harder, humming around his length and sucking it eagerly, though it was big enough that his jaw was already aching – yeah, he was definitely out of practice, he’d have to train some more if he ever wanted to worship that dick the way it deserved to be.

“Ah, _fuck_ , Webs!” Wade sobbed loudly, his whole body tensing as he came, rolling down onto Peter’s fingers, and up into his mouth, his load dribbling messily from the corners of Peter’s mouth.

He pulled away abruptly when it became too much, slumping down into Peter’s hold, panting heavily. Peter gently rubbed his back, taking his time – he was familiar with sub-drop, even though they hadn’t gone _that_ hard, he had felt how far gone Wade was.

“You okay?” he asked, pressing a messy kiss to his cheek – or at least, he thought it was his cheek.  
“Mmh. That was awesome”, Wade mumbled, nuzzling against his shoulder. “You’re way too good at that, Spidey.”  
“You were perfect, Wade.”

Slowly, Wade peeled away, the leather squeaking against the spandex, and even without seeing him, Peter could tell he was wrinkling his nose.

“Whoops. Sorry, Spidey. I slobbered all over your shoulder, and there’s jizz on your… uh. Well. It dribbled from your mouth?”  
“Mmh. I’d like to clean up a bit, if you want to tuck yourself back in before I take the blindfold off.”  
“Yeah”, Wade replied, shuffling upwards until he was standing.

There was the sound of zippers and clasps, of leather rubbing on leather, and Peter missed Wade’s warmth against him.

“I’m all good, you can take off the blindfold”, he added a minute later, and Peter did just that, blinking at the diffuse light of dawn. “Here, gimme”, he said, taking the scarf and gently wiping off Peter’s mouth, shoulder and stomach.  
“…You just put cum on silk?” Peter deadpanned.  
“Seems so, yeah”, Wade grinned, planting a kiss on his mouth. “That was awesome and we definitely should do that again, but right now I’d like a nap.”  
“Sleeping sounds so good”, Peter moaned, stretching. “See you tomorrow?”  
“Definitely, yeah”, Wade nodded, slipping his mask down.

Peter grabbed the scarf from Wade’s hands and wiped his hands down, before he picked up his gloves and tucked them into his suit. No way he was putting clean gloves now. Wade stuffed the dirtied scarf in one of his pouches and Peter prepared to lower him to the ground, the merc grabbing onto him like a damn koala.

“You want me to swing you back home?” he asked, because even though he was tired, he’d just gone really hard on Wade and Aunt May had raised a gentleman, thank you very much.

Wade hummed against his neck.

“That sounds delightful”, he replied, “but then I’ll insist you stay the night.”  
“It’s almost dawn, Wade”, Peter chuckled. “Alright, I’m walking you home. Hold on tight.”

It was a bit weird to swing with Wade weighing down on his hips, especially as the man didn’t cry out nor whooped as they sailed through the streets of Brooklyn. Peter realised Wade really was knackered when he started to snore into his shoulder, and it was only instinct that kept him wrapped around Peter. He landed on a roof, secured the merc by webbing his limbs to himself, and swung off again, straight to Wade’s place. The window was open just enough for him to slide his fingers in and push it open, and he was certain Wade had done it on purpose.

Wade mumbled as Peter landed more heavily than he intended in the apartment, but didn’t wake up. Peter cut off his webs and lowered the merc onto his mattress, chuckling when Wade clung to him and prying his fingers off. Gently, he rolled Wade’s mask up, pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and he was off. Only once he stepped inside his own apartment did he see his own nails glowing in the dark, once he’d drawn the shutters shut. _Well done, Parker. That was really smooth._ Hopefully, Wade would have been too out of it to notice. He showered and stumbled into bed, making a note to clean his suit, before he fell asleep.

Peter woke up mid-afternoon, grabbing his phone to stop it from ringing and yawning as he unlocked it: he’d seen he had a text from Wade.

**From: Daddypool.**   
_Baby boy. Did I dream last night? Because I was quite sure we were on a rooftop making out and shit, but I woke up in my bed and Yellow says we dreamt that. Whitey says we didn’t and I’m /going spare/._

**To: Daddypool.**   
_It was not a dream, we did have some good kind of horizontal tango last night on that rooftop. I swung you home and you fell asleep on me on the way._

Peter smiled sleepily, thinking back to how _good_ it had been. There was something between Wade and him, something primal he couldn’t quite control… and didn’t really want to. Something he had with MJ when they were still young and passionately in love, but that had died long ago. Shit, MJ. Was it weird that he was already falling back into someone else’s bed? Was it disrespectful to their twelve years marriage? _It’s not a relationship, though. We’re friends, having sex. Sex-friends?_ Was it unfair to Wade? Shit, was he using Wade?

He sat up brusquely, feeling sick at himself. It had been really good, but he was still too raw from the divorce to want something more. But what did Wade want? They hadn’t talked about it. Hell, Wade didn’t even know he was far from emotionally available at the moment. God, he really was an asshole.

**From: Daddypool.**   
_I’m glad it wasn’t a dream. It also explains why I’ve slept so well, that was one mind-blowing orgasm. Damn baby boy, you have magical fingers._

It had already gone too far, he couldn’t let it go any farther. But Wade was the one bright, happy thing in his life, and yeah, it was damn egoistical of him… but he couldn’t let him go. He couldn’t.


	24. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When has Peter ever been good at taking orders?
> 
> Never, that's when.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chance for some sexy times before we're back to the serious stuff. Got more D/s than planned so I'll update the tags for that.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade had slept until noon, and he didn’t remember sleeping that well in _years_. So, of course, he was very chirp that morning, even though Spidey wasn’t answering – but he wasn’t worried because Peter was Spidey, and Peter worked night, so his baby boy needed that sleep. Drinking his coffee, he started some research on Peter Parker. He had never delved too deep on the guy’s backstory because, well, he was only Spider-Man’s photographer – but now that he knew they were one and the same, all bets were off. He found the birth extract for one Peter Benjamin Parker, thirty-seven years ago. He found the paper indicating that seven years old Peter had been entrusted to the care of one Benjamin Parker – his uncle – and one May Parker – his aunt -, both deceased. May, barely a year and a half ago. Benjamin, murdered in the street, twenty-one years ago. Peter had been barely sixteen, and that broke his heart – especially as he read the articles detailing the attack, how the teen had recognized his dying uncle… and how a guy dressed in a red sweatshirt with a spider motif had flung the main suspect out from a window, killing him instantly.

There was blood on Spider-Man’s hands, and he was the only one who knew. He read about Peter’s graduation from high-school, the same year as Flash Thompson. He read about his thesis, though he barely understood a thing with all the scientific jargon used in there. He already knew everything about his career as a photograph for the Daily Bugle, as Spider-Man’s photographer, but he read it all again in a new light. He read about his wedding, twelve years ago, to one Mary-Jane Watson – a gorgeous opera singer with flame-red hair, who was absolutely nothing like him.

He read about his divorce, three months ago, and wow. It was really recent, no wonder the guy was feeling bad. Their chemistry, and how great they went along, had made him think that _maybe_ he could hope for something more… Now he knew it was too soon. He remembered all too well the mess he’d been after Vane-

{THAT’S NOT THE SAME} Yellow shrieked.

“No, it’s not the same, but he still needs time to heal. Whitey was right, for once: we won’t be a fucking band-aid for his broken heart, but we can be a friend. We can have sex, even. And maybe we can be more down the road, but not now.”

[And how well do you think that will pan out for us? We’re basically in love with him already, and that’s _YOUR_ fault, dickhead.]

“Well, it’s not like we don’t know that. We’ll just have to deal with it. And he needs us. Remember, he told us he’s basically alone. We know how hard that is, and we don’t want to be alone either. So maybe we can be alone together.”

[That’s not a good idea. Like, really not. But hey, since when have you actually listened to me? Even though I’m basically the voice of reason.]

“Hush now, I’ve taken a decision. It won’t be the first time we put our heart on the line.”

He received Peter’s text – or rather, Spidey, he’d have to be careful with that – just as he was about to head out. The air whooshed out of his lungs when he received the confirmation that they had indeed hooked up, and he whooped.

[You are obnoxious.]

“C’mon, we blew Spider-Man! That was on our bucket list for so long it was starting to get ridiculous.”

{Think he’ll let us tap that ass?}

“Only one way to know: ask!”

**To: Baby Boy.**  
_By the way, there’s no way an inexperienced guy would know how to finger one so good. Spill it, Spidey: you’re a naughty guy._

**From: Baby Boy.**  
_You know, being a hero doesn’t mean either being a prude nor being a virgin, ‘Pool. And I never said I was inexperienced, you ran away with that idea._

**To: Baby Boy.**  
_*gasp* You did butt stuff before!_

**From: Baby Boy.**  
_Please tell me that pun wasn’t intentional and I’m the one with my mind in the gutter._

**From Baby Boy.**  
_Also… Yes. I mean, I wouldn’t have been able to handle you the way I did if I’d had no idea wtf I was doing._

**From Baby Boy.**  
_I’ll admit to one thing: I’ve never had any kind of sex with a guy before. That’s it. That’s the extent of the new territory._

Wade couldn’t stop himself from grinning – okay yes he was getting a stiffy but, like, Little Wade had Captain’s America stamina.

{That metaphor was wrong on _so many levels_.}

Because it wasn’t difficult to piece everything together: Spidey had used toys, or maybe even a strap-on given that he’d been married, and Wade desperately wanted to see that.

**To: Baby Boy.**  
_Ah! I’m sure you did a lot of butt stuff-ing before. Show me your favourite and I’ll show you mine._

**From: Baby Boy.**  
_That pun was horrible. Also, you’ve lost me. Show you what, exactly?_

**To: Baby Boy.**  
_I see how it is. Are you being shy now, or merely teasing? Anyway, I’ll go first because I’m a nice guy just like that._

Heading out forgotten for now, Wade sat down on his mattress and grabbed the box where he kept all his toys, ruffling in it and ultimately taking everything out before he finally found the toy he’d been searching for. Grinning, he settled more comfortably, legs parted, and set the toy up between his legs to get a good photo crotch level. Which was perfect because Peter would see the bright pink unicorn horn, with Wade’s hard-on in the background.

[Now you’re just being over-eager.]

“Spoil-sport”, Wade grumbled, hitting send.

**From: Baby Boy.**  
_Ah, I see what you meant. Is it a “mine’s bigger than yours” type of thing or…?_

**To: Baby Boy.**  
_Baby boy, it’s obvious mine’s bigger than yours. Just show me what you love, it’s for the spank bank._

**From: Baby Boy.**  
_I can’t even argue that one because you’re right. And boy do I want to gag on that dick. You’re so massive it should be illegal._

Wade let out a whine reading the words, grinding his palm into his crotch.

{YES YES I WANT THAT, MAKE HIM GAG, MAKE HIM BEG, WRECK HIM, WRECK HIIIIIM}

The memory of Peter’s mouth around his crown still fresh in his mind, he could all too easily imagine how it would be. Shivering, he opened his pants, because no matter how far this little exchange of texts went, there was no way he could go about his day without taking care of his problem.

**To: Baby Boy.**  
_Baby Boy, all you had to do was ask._

He added a quick snap of his tented boxers and waited for Spidey’s answers, wondering if maybe the guy was flustered in his little apartment? Was Peter flushed that endearing red, was he hard and dripping just from that exchange?

**From: Baby Boy.**  
_Took me a moment to find it, I haven’t opened that box in a while… It’s been so long, who knows, maybe it doesn’t even fit anymore? I must be pretty tight, I’m sure you’d love it._

The attached pic nearly sent Wade’s heart into over-drive: it featured the lower part of Peter’s face, his mouth open and tongue gliding wetly against a big, rigged dildo he held in both hands. He roughly squeezed himself through his underwear to stop himself from coming on the spot, before he slid it down, freeing his cock with a sigh of relief. He wasn’t exactly sure he could keep on texting while this bothered, so he tapped the call icon. Peter answered almost immediately, slightly breathy.

“Did you like my picture?” Peter asked in a sultry voice.  
“God yes”, Wade replied, “it was perfect. You got some time to play, Baby Boy?”  
“I wouldn’t have started a game I can’t finish”, Peter replied, and Wade could hear his smile. “Tell me”, he whispered, “what do you want me to do?”  
“You want me to be in charge, baby boy? Want old DP to tell you how to play with yourself?” Wade growled in the phone, putting it on speaker.  
“Yes”, Peter replied, his voice turning into a moan. “Please.”  
“Good. If I ask a question, you answer with ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’. Okay?”  
“Oh f-” Spidey gasped, “y-yes sir.”  
“Do you have a safe word, baby boy?”  
“Yes, sir”, Peter answered. “Brooklyn, sir.”

Wade smiled, pleased, and wiggled down the mattress.

“Are you still wearing clothes, boo?”  
“Y-Yes, sir.”

Wade clicked his tongue.

“What a shame. I like that pretty cock of yours free. It’s a really nice cock, too. Fit into my mouth so well, it was like you were made for me. Now, baby boy, I want you to put your box of toys next to you, and to lie down, knees up and feet flat on the mattress.”

There was some shuffling on the other end of the line, a loud clatter followed by some creative swearing, and the loud sound of a body thumping to the ground, and Wade nearly burst out laughing imagining what had probably happened.

“Sorry for that, sir.”  
“That eager, baby boy?”  
“Yes.”  
“Yes…?”  
“Yes, sir”, Peter corrected himself quickly. “Sorry, sir.”  
“I’ll let it slide this time, but if you drop the title again, I’ll have to punish you, baby boy.”  
“Sir?”  
“Now, now, wouldn’t be much of a punishment if you knew what I had in store”, Wade tutted, grabbing a mostly empty bottle of lube that laid nearby. “Are you ready, baby boy?”  
“Yes, sir”, Peter replied, and Wade could imagine him all too well, hands fisted into the sheets to keep from touching himself.

{You should have made it a video call.}  
[And let him see the horror show we are? Are you dumb?]

“I want you to slide your hands on your torso. Feel your body up. Imagine it’s my hands on you, I know they feel broad on your ribs, splayed on your stomach, wrapped around your hips. You like it, don’t you? How tall, big and strong I am next to you. I’ve seen the way you eye my muscles, baby boy. They really get you going, don’t they?”  
“Yessir”, Peter breathed, so soft he barely heard him. “You’re so strong, sir.”  
“Remember what you said? I could spank you really hard, baby boy”, Wade crooned, palming himself. “Get that bubbly ass of yours all red and sensitive from my blows. You like it when it hurts so good, don’t you, baby boy?”

A muffled whine answered him and he closed his eyes, easily picturing Peter splayed on his bed, his hands roaming everywhere but his cock, hard and dripping, needy, wanting more and yet not allowed to. And wasn’t that a power trip?

“I expect an answer, baby boy”, Wade chided, and Peter gasped loudly.  
“Yes sir, yes!” he blurted out, “please, sir!”  
“No. That’s the second time you don’t follow the rules, baby boy. I thought they were simple enough, weren’t they?” Wade replied, voice hard, scolding.  
“Yes, sir! I can follow them, sir!” Peter pleaded, and he sounded desperate already.  
“Obviously you can’t, but I’m willing to give you another chance to obey. You’ll punish yourself for me, baby boy.” He distinctively heard Peter gulp. “Do you own a plug?”  
“Yes, sir”, Peter answered, voice laced with anticipation and fear.  
“Once we’re done, I want you to put it in and keep it there until we meet for patrol. I’ll take it out myself. Think you can do this, baby boy?” Wade all but purred into the phone, grinning manically at the thought of Peter working all night with the plug keeping him loose and open.

Yeah, okay, maybe Wade was an evil mastermind after all. But no one had to _know_. There was a silence as Peter thought, decidedly turned on but probably considering the risks.

“Yes, sir. I can do that, sir.”  
“Very good, baby boy. Trail your fingers up your cock, baby. Nice and slow, just a brush.”

Peter took in a deep breath and Wade wrapped his slippery fingers around his own cock, working it at a slow, nice rhythm. Lately, he’d taken to getting off fast and dirty just to purge thoughts of Peter out of his system, but he usually liked a more sedate pace.

{Yeah, nice and slow, delayed gratification and all that jazz.}

“That’s it, baby boy. Hands off, now.” He waited to hear Peter’s breathing, laboured and deep, stuttering as he fought to obey. “Lube your fingers, and circle your pointer against your rim. Tell me how it feels.”

Peter huffed out a laugh and Wade had the feeling his spider-wonder had just bitten his own tongue to stop himself from making a scathing remark.

“…It feels good, sir”, he finally said after a moment. “It would feel even better with your finger, sir.”  
“Mmh, aren’t you cheeky, spider-babe? You don’t like teasing much, do you?”  
“It’s…” Peter bit his lips. “I like it but I hate it, sir”, he finally settled on saying, and Wade nearly burst out laughing at the confession because _damn_ if he didn’t understand.  
“Oh, baby boy. When I finally get to fuck you, I’ll tease you first. Until your begging and nearly incoherent. I’ll edge you and pull you back before you fall until you forget your own name, and you’ll love every minute of it. You will feel like you’re falling apart under my hands, so that when I finally take you, it’ll be like completion.”

There was a muffled slam that Wade recognized as a flat palm hitting hard a mattress, and a shuffling that suggested peter was arching his hips off the bed.

“F-Fuck”, he cried out, “please, please, stop teasing, sir!”  
“No more teasing? What a shame”, Wade sighed, stroking himself with firmer grip and letting husk slide into his voice. “Alright, then. Get that finger in, baby boy. I know you know how to do it.”

There was a cry on the other end of the phone, and Wade’s breath stuttered, his hand accidentally squeezing.

“That’s it, baby boy. Stretch yourself good. Think you can take that toy you showed me?”  
“No, sir”, Peter replied, gulping, “it’s too big, sir.”  
“Do you own anything smaller, baby boy? Something you can fuck yourself on, deep and hard, like I would fuck you. Because you know I would. I’d bend you over the arm of the couch and take you there, with your pants halfway down your thighs. Make it a bit of a stretch, so you feel the burn for some time.”  
“Sir”, Peter moaned, “I- _ah_ , fuck!”

Wade could hear rustling on the other end of the line and he smirked, knowing full well that Peter was no longer obeying, given the gasps of pleasure he heard, and the squelching sound of fingers working fast.

“Wade”, Peter called, his voice a whine full of so much desire Wade nearly blew his load there and then. “Oh, oh, I’m-”

There was a gasp and a sharp _ah_ that Wade easily recognized as Peter coming – {that’s not the kind of sound you would forget uh} – and he shivered, his orgasm rolling in and sending him tumbling over the edge. He took just the time he needed to recover, eyeing the mess he’d made and wondering just how done Peter looked, splayed on his bed and panting in post-orgasmic bliss.

“Baby boy, did you come without permission?” he all but purred into the phone, letting some threat slip into his voice – the promise of consequences to come.  
“Nu-uh, no sir, I didn’t”, Peter gasped, and Wade nearly snorted at how obvious the lie was.  
“Tsk. That won’t do, baby boy. I can’t have you lying to me like that, on top of disobeying. _Again_. This calls for discipline.” A silence. “You remember your punishment for tonight?”  
“…Yes, sir”, this time quiet and subdued.  
“Then get to it.”

He cut the call and sighed, wondering whether to clean himself up now or to nap – in the end, the nap won.


	25. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are way too many red-clad kinky men in Peter's life.
> 
> Or maybe just two, but he is not ready to admit that yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters might be shorter for some time, idk, because NaNo kicked my ass good so I just barely finished this chapter. I'll try to pick up but uuuuugh.

~~ PETER ~~

Not that the day was long, but… the day was long. Especially with a plug up his ass. Peter had found a pair of faded grey jeans that were two sizes too big and decided he would wear that, because all his tighter trousers pushed the toy in deeper and it was _torture_. He had forgotten how good it all felt and had found himself with a semi most of the day. He had been so sure work would make it flag, but it hadn’t – and no, he wasn’t wearing the suit under his clothes.

Deadpool showed up at ten and a half, with a spring to his step, and a metallic suitcase in hand, one that Peter eyed warily. It looked like a businessman’s case, the kind that were used in illegal trades to stuff green bills in neat stacks. And knowing the man, it was probably that. Still, Deadpool stuffed the case between his feet and grinned at Peter.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

Peter finished mixing the flashy pink drink he’d been working on for another patron before he rose and eyebrow and bent forward to look at Deadpool.

“Tell me, DP, are you a vampire?”

Deadpool perked with interest, probably sensing the lame pick-up line incoming.

“Because you seemed a little thirsty looking at me”, Peter finished with a Cheshire cat grin.

Wade guffawed, slamming his hand against the counter.

“Oh you’re the best, Pete-pie”, he chuckled. “You know, I’d probably drool a bit if you bent over, just a little.”

Peter flushed at the thought of bending, gosh, if only Wade knew he was Spidey… Oh that would be a turn-on, a very big one.

“You would, wouldn’t you”, he whispered seductively, his voice dropping more than he wanted it to with the quasi-constant arousal of the last hours, which was worse now that Wade was here.

He made a show of bending over to retrieve a bottle on the bottom shelf, actually taking his damn time so he wouldn’t betray himself with a noise. Not in Sister Margaret where half of the patrons still thought he was a hooker. He made his way to a table to bring the drinks, and stopped by Deadpool when he came back, smiling.

“So? Drooling into your mask, big boy?” he asked casually, cocking a hip out.

Wade made a noise and pulled him forward by the waist, bracketing him between his – _damn big and muscular_ – thighs before he coped a feel of his ass. Peter harshly bit his tongue to not moan into the touch as the kneading hands moved the plug into his prostate, making him see stars. He very nearly keened when a gloved finger tapped the flared end of the plug, Wade grinning like a cat who’s caught the canary.

“And you are naughtier than you seem, Pete-pie”, he whispered against his ear. “Keeping yourself loose and open while on the job, really? Who’s the lucky guy?”

Peter actually bit down into Wade’s padded shoulder-guard when the merc casually tugged on the plug, before he managed to retrieve enough of his brain to slap his hands away.

“Please don’t, master’s order. This stays where it is.”

Peter looked up from beneath his eyelashes as Deadpool took in a sharp breath, his hands falling away and on his hips.

“You’re damn obedient, pet. Makes me wish you were mine.”

Peter smirked and stepped away on shaking legs, going back behind the counter as Wade’s eyes drilled holes into him. It was exhilarating to have all of Deadpool’s intense focus and attention on him. Luckily, the mercenary didn’t say anything more before it was time for Peter’s lunch pause. This time, Peter didn’t even try to climb all the way up to the roof and instead found himself a corner in the bar, sighing and shivering as he sat down. He managed to inhale his sandwich before Deadpool finally made his way over, strutting through the bar with intent. Deadpool slid into the booth until his burning hot side was pressed against Peter’s, his hand falling on his thigh.

“You say the word and I stop”, Wade growled from behind his mask, and Peter’s heart started to beat faster. “Consent is sexy, Pete-boy.”  
“Believe me if I didn’t want this you’d know it”, Peter whispered, gripping the worn-down wood of the table tightly. “First because I would never have actively flirted back with you.”

Deadpool hummed back and even though they were in a dark corner, his stance was explicit enough that only a few actually dared to take a peek. There was not much to see, Peter guessed, aside from the flushed new bartender sitting ramrod straight with Deadpool plastered against him.

“What are your master’s rules, darling?” Deadpool purred against his hear, his palm going up until it was cupping his cock, and damn Peter hoped his jeans weren’t going to soak through like his underwear currently was.  
“Only to-” He took a breath. “Keep the plug in until he takes it out, and not to cum until then.”

Yeah, okay. The not-coming part hadn’t been said, but first Peter loved that edge and second… Wade hadn’t needed to say it. It had been clear in his voice. And _maybe_ , third, because Deadpool could maybe recognize his own order. So what if Peter was taking risks? What if Wade puzzled out his identity? There wasn’t much he had left to lose, and he trusted the man.

“Mmh”, Wade replied, shifting slightly to rub his fingers lightly over the tent in his pants. “Here’s my guess: that master’s of yours is Spider-Man, isn’t it? He has the goody-two shoes act down, but you and I both know the truth: he isn’t what he seems to be.”

_Wha_ \- Peter nearly chocked on his own snort of laughter at the idea that _Spider-Man_ was his kinky master. Oh, Deadpool, sweetheart, _no_. But also kinda yes because he had issued his own order of not coming and… well, it made everything easier if Wade hadn’t figured him out yet.  
“I see your skills are nothing to scoff at”, he finally managed to say. “Yes, you’re right.”

Wade’s hand twitched around his arm, but the other kept on slowly gliding over his crotch.

“I fucking knew it”, Wade crowded with a salacious grin. “I’ll play by the rules, then. Don’t want Spidey whooping my ass just ‘cause I can’t keep my hands to myself. Not that I wouldn’t love it, of course, y’know, just… not like that.”  
“Yeah, you’d love some of that spider-strength staining your ass red, of course you would”, Peter replied rolling his eyes even though the mere idea made his dick twitch in his pants.  
“ _There’s_ a man after my own heart”, Deadpool positively glowed. “So, you don’t get to come and I get to tease you. Think your master would approve?”  
“I have no doubt _he_ would approve”, Peter growled, slapping his hand away from his over-sensitive lap. “I’m not sure I can take another red-clad kinky man lusting after my ass.”

“That’s harsh but accurate”, Deadpool replied with a nod, before glancing at the bar. “Relax, I’ll be out of your hair tonight. I’ve got some business to do”, he added, going back to the bar and picking up the suitcase that he had entrusted to Weasel’s care.

Peter watched with a frown as he pulled a new-comer aside, leaving Sister Margaret’s with the girl – a blonde, lanky thing who was skin and bones. He didn’t come back before the end of Peter’s shift, which was just as good because work picked up like crazy, the harsh fall wind pushing people inside instead of facing it foolishly. Temperatures were still good enough, but before long winter would be there and Peter would freeze his ass off swinging around. Unless he put his festive knitted jumpers on while patrolling, but it had led to the loss of some of his favourite ones which he still mourned.

He realized as he thought about that that he now had money and he could – should, really – refurnish his wardrobe. He’d just add “swinging-suitable jumpers” to the list, along with a good, long, warm coat. He definitely needed a warm coat, especially now that he was working at night. His shift ended and he used the restroom to pull his suit on, before he donned his clothes back on. He made it to the rooftops and pulled off his clothes, stuffing them in his backpack, which he webbed to a chimney, and settled to wait for Wade. He looked forward to taking off the plug that had made his day a (delicious) nightmare, and he really didn’t want to wait anymore.

Luckily, Deadpool didn’t make him wait long, using his grapple to climb onto the roof that was apparently their meeting point now. He still had his metallic suitcase, which swung awkwardly at the end of his arm, and set it down by his feet before sitting down cross-legged beside Peter.

“Hey! Did you know they just opened this French food joint two streets down? I don’t know if you’re much of a gourmet but I’m feeling adventurous and I definitely want to try snails.”

Peter stared back at him and blinked slowly.

“You and I have very different takes on priorities, it seems.”  
“You think I have forgotten about your punishment?” Wade asked, his voice suddenly dropping, and Peter shivered. “Oh, baby boy, as if I’d forget something like that. No, but after patrol it might be nice to try new food, if you’re up for it.”

Peter pursed his lips under the mask.

“Snails?” he asked, disgusted. “Sorry, you’re doing that one alone. I’m sure there are other things more… _palatable_ in French cuisine.”  
“Coward”, Wade teased him, grabbing his suitcase and pulling it close before he snapped it open. “So, I did some digging, as promised. Roman Berisha, our last zombie victim, isn’t like the others.”  
“What do you mean?” Peter said, crawling closer to take a peek at the suitcase.  
“I mean, while the others were all vulnerable and that was their only common point, our Roman was none of that. I think he was purposefully targeted. I think this was a murder, plain and simple.”

And damn, Wade really had a way to set the mood.


	26. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Plan is actually Not That Grand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I update a little early bc I probably won't have time tomorrow so uh here have a chapter.
> 
> Also you know how I said Eddie wouldn't appear in this fic but later in the series?
> 
> Yeah I lied.
> 
> (Actually I didn't my plot just ran away from me.)

~~ WADE ~~

Wade tried to keep things cool, but his mind had been buzzing and his skin reeling ever since he got out of that meeting with his informant – Spades, as she went by, was of the very slippery kind, and he rarely did business with her. As calmly as he could, he opened the briefcase she had handed him in exchange for his – cold hard cash for intel. He had had enough time to peruse the documents inside, but Spades had still given him a rough sketch about what she’d found.

Spider-Man picked one stack up, frowning under his mask at the logo in the right-hand corner.

“Life Foundation? Isn’t that the same company that runs the psychiatric ward where our witness is detained?”  
“Yup”, Wade replied, kicking his legs. “What do you know about them?”  
“They’re a scientific company”, Spidey replied. “Working on a cure for cancer, and on several projects to cure genetic diseases like haemophilia or cystic fibrosis. I believe they were also involved in a space program years ago, with Doom Industries.” He looked down at his papers again. “Roman Berisha worked for them”, he realized.  
“Better than that, he was at the head of a lab where everything is classified. It seems the Life Foundation has been developing projects to get military contracts. There are some technological ones, which are the ones they take to the army to get more funds. But with some digging…”

Wade thumbed through the documents to get to a specific report, which he plopped down in Spider-Man’s lap.

“Project BW-0S0T”, Spidey read on the cover.  
“This is what we’ve been seeing”, Deadpool warned him. “Our Virus Z is what they’ve been working on in Project BW-0S0T… and it’s very nearly ready.”

Spider-Man opened the file and bit back a gag at the photos in there. It was horrible, even though, as he read, he discovered the guinea pigs were people who had already been dead and had donated their bodies to science.

“You think they’ve started to test on live guinea pigs”, he finally said. “BW-0S0T…”  
“Biological Weapon – 0 survivors 0 trace. This is meant to make people disappear, Spidey. Completely. That’s what I understood, at least.”

Spider-Man shook his head and lifted his mask up to his nose, and Wade finally noticed how hard he was gripping the edge of the roof.

“It’s bigger than that”, he gasped. “Oh god, I’m gonna throw up”, he added with a moan, staggering to his feet to run a few feet farther.

Wade ran after him, supporting him with an arm around his waist to hold him up, soothingly running a hand on his back.

“Did you eat something bad?” he asked softly, taking a packet of tissues from one of his pouches and wiping Spidey’s mouth, holding his trembling form together.

Spider-Man made a sound that Wade identified as an attempt to chuckle.

“No”, he replied. “I’m just on the verge of having a panic attack. Don’t worry, I’m used to it, it’s just… when things get too much, it does that.”

He bent over and retched again, his body heaving in violent spasms, and finally straightened up.

“Okay, I’m good. Sorry about that.”

{Does he seriously expect us to believe that?}

Wade said nothing and instead handed him a bottle of water. Even though Spidey seemed to be fine enough to walk, he kept an arm around his waist until they were sitting down again. Spider-Man took a deep breath, tugging on the collar of his suit.

“It’s all scientific jargon so I’m not surprised you didn’t catch it. Basically, so far, they haven’t yet managed to refine the virus to make it spread otherwise than through bodily fluids, as we’ve found out, but it’s only a matter of time. They could wipe out three fourth of New York City by simply poisoning the water main, potentially. But that’s not their goal.” He flipped through the documents until he got to one. “You see this?”  
“Yeah? Sorry it’s all rubbish to me, Webs.”  
“This is a genetic marker. If they manage to get to their end goal, they could tailor the virus to attack very precisely. Just one person who thought they were out of harm’s reach. The President. You. Me. That cashier at Target. Anyone. Others would be infected, but the virus would lay dormant and not act. Sane bearers, if you will.” His hand shook as he rose a finger. “But they could tailor it to something wider than just one person. A whole bloodline. A whole community. This could mean a systematic and complete genocide. And do you know who is likely to be their first victims? Us. Mutants. It’s all too easy to isolate the mutant gene, and then it’d be over. You know what Magneto says about first registering, then rounding up, and when the killing starts it’s too late? This stuff would make registering unnecessary, it goes directly to the killing.”

As Peter talked, Wade felt himself grow cold. No wonder he had thrown up, Wade was feeling quite nauseous himself already.

“So it’s really bad, then.”

Peter breathed deeply.

“It’s bad, but we have some luck here. First, we found out about this, which is more than can be said of other super-heroes. Second, we know who does it. And third… it’s not yet complete. This kind of work takes years to produce. I don’t think we actually have years with how far they’ve come, but months? We definitively have months.”  
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… shouldn’t we hand this over to the Avengers? They’re better equipped than us.”

Peter shook his head.

“No. I’ve observed most of their work, and here they’d just barge in guns blazing to raze the lab to the ground. Whoever is twisted enough to imagine this and make it real will have back-up labs devised to go deep underground if they’re busted. Then we’d never find them again, and by the time they come out, it’d be too late. There’s also the fact that lately, the government has been putting its nose into their methods and that’s another can of worms altogether. We don’t want any suit to get a hold of _this_. And lastly… the Life Foundation is one of SI’s biggest adversaries on the market ever since Oscorp’s stock went down. They could just as simply accuse Tony of defamation and of using his privilege for industrial espionage.”  
“You have a point”, Wade hummed, “and that’s without counting that they don’t like me and don’t trust me.”  
“Can’t say I’m getting along well either, I’ve always been a loner and the cool gang usually doesn’t like that. Cap especially, he has nothing against me as a person, but our opinions on duty and responsibilities don’t match.”  
“So we have no other choice but to deal with that ourselves, uh. The good old way.”  
“Well, so far I think we make a great team, don’t you?” Webs said with a small smile. “Okay, let’s gather this and start patrolling.”  
“Spidey, should you be patrolling when you have nothing in your stomach? I can still see your hand twitching.”

Peter deflated slightly.

“I’m not on top of my game but if I stop now, I’m going to fall apart. Swinging always helps.”

Wade looked at him, and sighed.

“Alright. No more than two hours, and then you come back home with me and I make good on that promised punishment.”

Spider-Man nodded, shifting slightly, and sent him a cocky grin before he tugged his mask down.

“C’mon, old man.”

He turned around to jump, and Wade’s gaze automatically landed on that plump, round ass of his – and this close, through the stretched spandex, he could make out the end of the plug.

[Didn’t you want to take this off before he went off swinging?]  
{Let’s put it this way: this experience will open his eyes to a whole new world.}

Spidey jumped with a whoop and Wade watched as he caught himself at the last moment, body curving in a gracefully arch.

“Ah, shit. We are _so fucked_.”


	27. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they try new food and Deadpool's got a permanent marker.

~~ PETER ~~

Peter only managed to patrol for three quarters of an hour before throwing in the proverbial towel. Not only was he extra-hungry, but swinging moved the plug in new and unexpected ways and it was a miracle he hadn’t stupidly killed himself yet. And the spandex did nothing to conceal his semi hard-on, he had never been more thankful for the dark of the night. The last thing he needed was a pic of his boner on the _Daily Bugle_ ’s front page, thank you – not that he’d seen Eddie lurking around tonight, but still.

Wade guided him to that French restaurant and then bemoaned that there was no way he could have fondue as a take-out, until the manager offered them a quiet corner behind a windbreaker. At this hour of the night, most of the clientele was either drunk or seriously jet-lagged, and no one cared about the two weirdos in costume. Which was how they found themselves with a large pot of melted cheese in between them and an array of chunks of bread and venison. Wade had also ordered escargots, the madman, and was peering into his plate curiously.

“Here goes nothing”, Wade said, lifting his mask up and stabbing the green stuff inside of the shell with the special pick, pulling out and immediately chomping down on it. “Oh god.”  
“Please don’t throw up.”  
“No, Webs, it’s _so good_! You have to try, the texture’s a bit weird but whatever that sauce is, I’d damn myself for it!”  
“ _Snails_ , Wade. That little thing that crawls out when it rains.”  
“You can’t know until you’ve tried it!” the merc claimed, picking another one and holding it up to Peter’s mouth.

Peter frowned and gingerly pulled his mask up, hesitantly opening his mouth. His mouth pulled down into an expression of disgust and he swallowed.

“Never again. It was all squishy between my teeth”, he said with a shudder.  
“Well, more for me then”, Wade replied, slurping loudly from the shell to get all the sauce.  
“You heathen”, Peter said, picking a bit of bread and twirling it in the cheese.

Wade was quick to imitate him, but he promptly lost his bread to the pot and stared at it, dejected. He managed to retrieve it just as the waitress arrived with a bottle of red wine.

“On the house”, she said. “As thanks to both of you for protecting our city.” She smiled at Wade, who had been about to scramble to hide the bottom part of his face and had frozen at her expression. “You lost your bread? The tradition is, if you lose your bread, you get a dare.”  
“Oh no”, Peter said, looking at her. “Please, no dare for him. You have no idea what he’s capable of.”  
“That’s the rule”, the waitress insisted, and Peter wondered how she kept so calm and composed when faced with them, especially at this hour – it was like, five in the morning? People _slept_ at this hour.  
“Nah Spidey, let’s hear it! What’s the dare?”

She picked a folded piece of paper into the pocket of her apron and opened it.

“A break-dance demonstration”, she replied, looking delighted.

Wade pulled his mask down, popped his fingers and stood up, his feral grin showing through his mask.

“You asked for it, doll”, he purred.

Her eyes widened in amazement as Wade dropped move after move in a perfect showcase of strength and flexibility that the patrons and staff hadn’t expected, if their expressions were to say something. Peter had been more prepared, but he certainly could appreciate the show. Everyone clapped and Wade bowed with obvious pleasure before he slid back into his seat.

“Show-off”, Peter muttered as he popped a bit of cheesy bread in his mouth.

Wade rolled his eyes, and how could he do that through the mask?

“Like you don’t show off when people ask you for a somersault or a handstand on top of a building”, he retorted. “I’ve seen your vids, pal.”

Peter spluttered.

“I was _sixteen_! Of course I showed off!”  
“Ouh, prickly”, Wade giggled as he resumed his night meal, opening the bottle of wine and pouring some for both.

Once sated and the food paid for, they made it back to their favourite rooftop via Spidey-Express and Peter wobbled a bit, a tad overstimulated by the plug.

“Now, I believe there’s something I had promised to take care of”, Wade said, his voice low and dark. “Drop the pants, Webs. Hands and forehead on the wall, and don’t move until I say so.”

He stumbled over his own feet with his eagerness to get in position, prompting a dark chuckle from Wade, and awkwardly shuffled to get the spandex down, the night air cold and chilly on his skin, his cock now fully hard and bobbing against his stomach, leaving a trail of precum there.

“You look wonderful like that, Webs. One day, we’ll do that again, except when I’ll take the plug off, it’ll be to fuck you.”  
“You could do that now”, Peter breathed, shivering.  
“Baby boy, I’m _punishing_ you. So you learn your lesson.” He felt Wade move, so close to his flushed skin he was almost brushing against it, but didn’t dare to look back. “Now”, Wade said, and Peter realized he had to be kneeling, his face level with his pushed-out ass, and he felt his face burn underneath the mask. “What is it I’m punishing you for?”  
“For coming without permission, Sir”, Peter replied.  
“And?”  
“For lying to you, Sir.”  
“Good. Usually I’d make that two sets of ten spanks, but I’ve got a feeling you’d like it way too much. It wouldn’t be much of a punishment then, would it?”

Peter’s breath stuttered. With his position and Wade’s dark promises, he had been expecting a spanking, had been _hoping_ for one.

“Would it?” Wade repeated, his tone rough and unforgiven just as his hand squeezed his cheek harshly, pulling on his rim and sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine.  
“N-No Sir”, Peter replied once he’d caught his breath, on the verge of crying out.  
“I want to spoil you, Webs, I really do… But first you need to be punished.”  
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”  
“Not yet, you’re not.”

He almost jolted when he felt something thin and cold against his skin, and his stomach sank when he felt it move in a precise pattern: writing. Wade was writing on him. In big, round letters that he couldn’t decipher – his mind was buzzing too much, his fingers sticking to the wall as he breathed deeply. In the end, it didn’t take long. He heard Wade cap whatever pen he’d used and felt his gloved hands squeeze at his thigh as he admired his handiwork.

“Beautiful. Do you want me to take a pic to show you, Spidey?”

Peter nodded, unsure he wouldn’t sob if he tried to talk. He could feel the humiliation burning in his veins, and yet, yet he was thankful for the punishment – because Wade cared, Wade wanted him to learn, Wade wanted him to be better. He could be better, he just had to listen.

“I need an answer, baby boy. With words.”  
“Y-Yes, yes Sir”, he gasped.

He felt Wade pulled away and a minute later, his phone appeared in his line of sight. He gulped at the sight of the pic: his own ass on display, the plug very obvious, and his shoulders vaguely showing above. He could easily make out his suit, though. And, in large, rounded cursive, two sentences were written in black permanent marker – one on each cheek: _I came without permission_ and _I lied to my master_.

“Thank you, Sir”, he whispered.  
“You’re welcome, darling. Now, do you understand?”  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“You can pull your pants back on, Spidey. It’s really cold out there, how about we go to mine’s and I reward you?”

Peter nodded and pulled the spandex back to cover his ass, and yet he _knew_ the writing was there and it made him shudder. They gathered their things and Peter slid his backpack on his shoulders while Wade cuffed the case to his utility belt, and then he pulled Wade close, webbing the case to his thigh so it wouldn’t bump into them along the way, and motioned for Wade to jump. The merc did just that, holding on tight, and Peter leaped, launching them into the night-sky.

Swinging around with Wade holding onto him was a completely different experience, but it was one he loved. Okay, maybe not when Wade’s hips constantly nudged his boner. But usually, he loved it. It also meant he was slower, but it was still way better than being stuck in traffic. He landed on the fire-escape outside of Wade’s window and they slipped inside, both stretching and taking off their boots. Peter snorted at the sight of Wade’s mismatched socks - one pink with golden stars, the other midnight blue with white snowflakes – before he snatched off his gloves and slid his mask up to his nose.

It was when his hands went down that he noticed. He noticed his painted nails glowing from the very nail-polish Wade had applied to _Peter Parker_ ’s nails. And Wade was facing him, frozen.

Oh, _great._


	28. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Is that what you call an identity reveal?]  
> {You're the worst}

~~ WADE ~~

[Well, we’re fucked.]  
{LIE! PLAY STUPID, YOU DO THAT WELL!}  
[He knows full well we’re not _that_ stupid.]  
{He’ll be mad if we tell him!}  
 _SHUT. UP._

“Nice nail polish, Webs.”

{FUCK YOU.}  
[…That was probably the worst thing you could say.]

Spidey stood frozen as Wade switched on the light, and then let out a long, suffering sigh.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, uh?” he said, pulling his mask off completely to reveal his brown eyes full of apprehension. “You don’t seem very surprised”, he said after a moment. “How long have you known?”

Wade licked his lips, considered lying for a brief second before remembering what Spidey had told him after they met – “please don’t lie to my face” – and settled for the truth.

“The moment I saw Peter Parker’s eyes”, he admitted. “I couldn’t… Fuck, Peter, I could never forget your eyes, even with the swiss cheese brain of mind.”

That startled Peter, who hadn’t been expecting this answer.

“My _eyes_? Wait, you knew _all this time_?”  
“I didn’t want to freak you out! I never intended to find your identity out before you were okay to tell me, but then I met you- _you_ and I knew!”

Peter let out a strangled laugh.

“Please just give me a minute”, he said after a moment. “Wow. You found out like, so fast.”  
“Well, you’re not exactly _good_ at keeping secrets”, Wade said.

[Well done. Insult him. That will _surely_ help.]

“Uh, excuse you? I’ve been Spidey for, like, twenty years and you and my ex-wife are the only ones who know!”  
“Are you very upset?” Wade asked after a moment.  
“Upset? At myself for being stupid, yes. Not at you, you’re a merc, you’re brilliant and I was a careless idiot. Also, I trust you to keep this secret better than I do.”  
“That won’t be difficult.”  
“Will you please _cut the sass_?”  
“Or what? What will you do, _Peter_?”

{Mmh, yes, provocation, that always worked so well.}

“I’m very tempted to throw you out the window right now”, Peter threatened, and Wade stomped forward, crowding him against the wall.  
“No, you won’t. Because if you do, you’re gonna be super frustrated and I won’t be there to help relieve your poor, aching prick.”

[That’s a risky gamble, Wade.]  
{Oooh I like where this is going.}

“Fuck you, Wade”, Peter seethed, but Wade felt him relax – there would be no fighting tonight, not when Peter was this wound up.  
“Nuh-uh. Fuck _you_.”

Peter snorted and, wow.

[I can’t believe it worked. This guy is insane.]

“Wait a _fucking minute_. That’s why you enticed me to bend over for you at Sissy Margaret’s, isn’t it?”

Peter’s cheeks were flushed pure red, and wasn’t that endearing? Wade grinned, dropping his hands to Peter’s hips.

“I’ll admit I took advantage of the situation.”

Peter took a breath and looked into his eyes.

“So you know who I am and I’m not wearing the mask. Won’t you take your own mask off? Please, Wade. I don’t know what you had in mind as a reward, but it’ll be hotter with your eyes on me rather than white lenses.”  
“Spidey-”  
“No, don’t say it. I’m asking for too much, aren’t I?” he said in a slightly saddened voice.

His hand shot out and a glob of web connected with the light switch, turning it off and plunging the two of them in the dark once more. They would discern shapes and form, but that was all.

“Keep the mask on if you feel better this way”, he said. “But I want you to know that I don’t care about how your skin looks like. Your eyes are the drop-dead kind of gorgeous and I would drool over your muscles if you let me. But please, I have one request: take the gloves off. I want your hands on me, not leather.”

{Well, it’s kind of like with the blindfold, isn’t it?}  
[We could use a blindfold again. We’d see him better with the light on.]

“Alright”, he said in a breath.

Slowly, he undid the gloves and pulled them off, his fingers trembling, hesitant.

“Kiss me?” Peter asked, looking at him expectantly, and this, this he could do.

So he tugged his mask up to free his mouth and crashed his mouth with Peter’s, delighted that he could use his name now as he plundered his mouth and pushed him into the wall. He pulled away, breathless, but Peter chased his lips and he had to grab his hair and hold him back, smirking at his spider’s eagerness.

“Tell me, Petey-pie. How long can you stay with your head down?”

Peter shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I don’t get a head-rush so it’s not a problem.”

Wade couldn’t stop himself from grinning, predatory.

“Oh, baby boy, I’m going to mess you up _so bad_. Now let’s get you out of all this spandex before you ruin your suit _again_.”

Peter’s breath hitched and he pushed Wade back with a hand on his chest, hastily divesting himself of his suit to stand naked, and Wade kinda regretted not being able to see this – in time, he would. Oh, yes. One day he’d just lay down and watch Peter take it like a champ, bouncing on his lap – but not today. Today, he wanted to catch the spider in his own web.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no angst for the identity reveal because I didn't feel like it'd fit. Peter is too tired for angst. Leave him some time to freak out. (Also bc in Spider-Verse both RIPeter and Peter B. do not angst over having their masks teared off.)


	29. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets caught in his own web.  
> Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got... kinkier than planned.
> 
> Brat!Peter is a delight to write.

~~ PETER ~~

Peter had expected to be very upset if someone ever found out his secret identity. And true, he’d had a flash of panic – what if something happened to Wade? What if Wade happened to MJ? – before he realized he was being stupid. Wade was immortal, he would never have to worry about the guy dying – he would, goddammit he would, but he didn’t _have_ to. And Wade would never hurt him by hurting MJ. And he trusted Wade to not say a thing, which was a bit weird considering they’d known each other for barely a month.

Also he was very, very horny and in desperate need of release. Deadpool-provided if possible. So that was how he’d found himself standing completely naked in Wade’s living-room, plug still in place and bouncing on his heels with manic energy as the merc slowly circled around him, fingers trailing around his waist, gentle and slightly bumpy.

“You’re a work of art, you know that?” Wade breathed.  
“Wade”, he whispered, “please. I can’t take it anymore. Like, I have a severe case of blue-balls.”

Wade scoffed and had a fit of laughter, before pulling him into his arms, his still-clothed dick bumping against his ass as his beefy arms wrapped around his torso, a hand slowly sliding down his stomach to his cock, fingers wrapping around it and slowly jerking him to full hardness. Peter couldn’t stop the wanton moan that fell from his lips as his legs buckled, turning to jelly at the already overwhelming touch. Wade’s suit was coldish against his skin, especially the metal buckles of the several harnesses on his body.

“I have half the mind to jerk you off like this and watch you come prettily all over yourself”, he purred in his ear, and Peter would have probably come on the spot if he hadn’t pulled his hand away just then. “Now, listen closely, darling, ‘cause I won’t say it twice.”

And Peter could only whimper and shiver when Wade told him exactly how he wanted him, and it was oh so completely different than how he’d kept him in the dark about his punishment. The anticipation was going to kill him more surely than any of the villains he’d ever fought. Wade gave him a moment to gather himself and went to gather necessities in his bedroom, leaving Peter to follow his instructions.

Back in the days, when everything was still well, Peter took off his web-shooters when he wasn’t in costume. When things started to go south with MJ, even before Aunt May’s death, he’d taken to keeping them on more and more. And since the divorce, he had only taken them off to shower and for his interview with Weasel. So he hadn’t taken them off when he’d tugged off his suit, which had been a good idea in retrospective. He fired to the ceiling and hopped up, so he had his head down and feet cradling the web, sticking to it fiercely. From there, he fired another string, and then another, quickly forming a web from which he hung.

His eyes zeroed in on Wade’s silhouette, holding a towel he apparently used as a bundle for everything he needed. And then, he switched the bedroom’s light off and closed the door, and the only light was the very faint one from the window’s outline, and his own glowing nails. He was thankful for his hearing that let him not be too disoriented, and his slightly-better-than-average night vision, especially when he heard Wade knock into a piece of furniture and swear mid-voice. He fired a web to the store and pulled it up, letting some light filter into the room. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make out shapes – enough that Wade’s breath hitched when he saw him.

And then Wade was standing in front of him and Peter was pretty sure he was facing his crotch. His blood sang with the possibility of sixty-nining while he hung from his webs, and he mouthed at the clothed outline of Wade’s length. He’d tried once with MJ but they’d ended up in a tangled mess and had decided upside-down kisses were good enough.

“ _Fuck_ , Peter!” Wade growled, hips pushing instinctively into his face, before the merc could grab his hair _again_ and pull him back. “Great idea, but not what I had in mind”, he let out, sounding a bit strained. Just a tiny bit. “Lower a bit more, you’re too high.”

Peter frowned and slid along Wade’s thighs, stopping when he patted his hip.

“Perfect. Now get your feet in place.”

Shakily, Peter extended one leg to another part of his web, and stuck his feet to it, before doing the same with the other one. His legs were largely parted now, and he felt very exposed. Slowly, as Wade had instructed, he let go of his hands and grabbed onto Wade’s thighs, holding onto them like a lifeline.

“All good?”  
“One day I’m going to make a giant web and fuck you into it”, he let out with more bravado than he felt.  
“I like your ideas”, Wade replied, fingers skimming along his stretched rim, and Peter gasped in surprised pleasure.

_Oh_. Wade was at the perfect height to do whatever he wanted to his ass, and he’d been too stupid to see that. To realize he was just high enough for Wade to see him and be able to work him comfortably. Deftly, Wade pulled the plug out and set it nearby, fingers digging into the meat of his butt and brushing against his now empty hole, spreading the lube the toy had freed. Two thick fingers slipped into him knuckle-deep, punching a sound out of him as Wade set in search of his prostate.

It was amazing, the way they rubbed into him, gentle and firm – and it was even more amazing when Wade found it and pushed the pad of his finger into his soft spot, making Peter moan and shake as he held on for dear life.

“You sound so broken already, Webs”, Wade said. “You like my fingers in you that much?”  
“M-More”, he pleaded. “Please, Wade, more.”  
“More? Aren’t you a little slut, baby boy. You like having your holes filled, don’t you? Like a good little whore. I’ll indulge you, then”, Wade replied, his wet fingers bumping against Peter’s lips, asking for entrance.

So Peter parted his lips and took them in, nibbling on the pads and stroking his tongue along the bumps and ridges. Wade didn’t let him do that for long, pulling away and flicking open a cap – Peter guessed it was the lube, because apparently Wade was going at it with the “better safe than sorry” philosophy. Honestly, Peter didn’t care – he just wanted something to fill him up and bring him to completion and maybe-

He spluttered and wiped his face, startling Wade who nearly tripped over himself.

“Peter? Is everything alright?”  
“I’m fine”, Peter replied, frowning as he felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. “Apparently the gravity works on my blood but not on other fluids.”  
“…I have to see that.”  
“No you don’t”, Peter replied as Wade wheezed in laughter and, apparently having forgotten the bits of his skin on display, switched on a small light in the corner of the room by pulling on the web attached to it. His laughter got worse when he saw the precum drippling from Peter’s cock right down onto his face.  
“You look hella good, sugar. I’ve always wondered if you could suck your own dick. I can because obviously I’m that good, and you’ve got the flexibility thing.”  
“I can”, Peter replied with a suffering sigh, switching the light off again because Wade wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with the thought of being on display.

The light-switch was now completely covered by web-fluid. That would be a hassle to take down later, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to care when Wade was dutifully pouring cold lube right over his asshole. He twitched and gasped, trying to pull away, but Wade had a tight grasp over his thigh, almost bruising. Of course, he could have escaped if he’d wanted to, but the thing was he _didn’t_. Wade poured more into his hand and grabbed Peter’s cock, spreading it as he jerked him, and Peter moaned before chuckling.

“W-Wait, is this really…?”  
“Glow in the dark lube? Damn yes”, Wade answered, his hand sliding down on Peter’s abs and covering them in luminescent lube. “And look at this baby”, he added, reaching out and pulling a just as glowing dildo from under the towel. “Think you can take it, Petey?”

Peter’s mouth had dried in apprehension just as more precum slid down his rock hard cock, because the fake dick was quite long – longer than most of his toys – though it wasn’t very large. And he very much wanted it in, like, right now.

“Wade you’d better get started because if you don’t, I’m snatching this one out of your hands to shove it in”, he growled threateningly – or tried to, his voice turned out to be an aroused moan that made Deadpool’s breath hitch.

His mouth fell open on a soundless moan when Wade held him open to push the head of the toy inside, both of them watching as the light gradually disappeared into his open body. So. This was hot. Hotter than most of the things Peter had done, because he’d always been the kinky one in his mostly vanilla relationship with MJ. He’d used most of his toys alone, and to have someone with him for this, watching him, doing this to him… Well, it was a fucking strong turn-on. His grip on Wade’s thighs strengthened as he begged him for more.

And Wade was a damn wretched tease, pulling the dildo out when he’d only breached him a bit, slowly pushing it in, a bit farther. At this rhythm, they wouldn’t be done by sunrise. So Peter let go of Wade’s thighs, grabbed his wrists and pretty much shoved the toy in to the hilt, making a punched out sound as pleasure zinged through his body.

“Zero patience”, Wade replied, clicking his tongue, wrenching the toy out and setting it nearby, still dripping with lube. “You don’t learn your lesson easily, do you, Peter?”  
“Fucking get on with it, ‘Pool”, Peter growled, trying to eye the toy. Maybe he could fire a web at it and snatch it away?

…Was it even a good idea to get webs in his body? Probably not. He didn’t have time to ponder it any further, because Wade grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled him up, making him cry out a loud moan as he found himself on his hands and knees while also being held only by the webs at his feet and Wade’s hand in his hair.

“Don’t use that kind of tone with me, Webs”, Wade growled, low and dangerous. “I warned you, didn’t I?”

Peter gasped, his scalp burning, back and throat singing with strain and pain, eyes watering as his body struggled to keep him in position.

“Y-Yes”, he replied, licking his lips, “yes sir.”  
“Five, Peter. Count them down for me, and thank me for each one.”

Peter’s eyes widened at the command, but before he could protest or even say anything, a large, calloused hand fell down on his ass, right in the centre. His cock twitched and spilled precum all over the ground as he gasped both in pain and pleasure.

“O-One. Thank you, sir.”  
“Damn right, baby boy, you should thank me for taking such good care of you. Teaching you manners and everything”, Wade rumbled, his hand landing a second time – lower this time, no longer on the full round mound of Peter’s ass but at the sensitive skin where thigh met cheeks.  
“OW! Two. Fuck you, sir.”  
“Alright. Five more. Taking it back from the beginning.”

Peter squirmed, trying to get a look at his partner. Fuck-buddy? Dom, for the moment, that was for sure.

“Are you serious?”  
“When it comes to you? Always, darling”, Wade purred, squeezing his ass. “Now, behave if you want to get some D.”

Peter huffed, and took a breath. Wade’s hand stroke down again, harder than before and jolting him forward.

“One. Thank you, sir”, he replied, subdued.

He was totally getting lube all over, because Wade hadn’t cared enough to wipe what he had on his hands. Gosh, he probably had lube handprints over his backside. Over the words written in marker. Wade’s hand came down again, this time hitting upwards, making his ass bounce, and it was a damn shame Wade couldn’t see how it jiggled. He’d probably blow his load right then and there.

“Two! Thank you, sir”, Peter gasped, pulling on a string and switching on the light. “How do you like your handiwork, sir?”  
“Not red enough”, Wade grunted, struggling to keep himself in check.  
“Three”, Peter moaned. “Th-Thank you, sir.”  
“Is the lesson sinking in?”  
“Not yet, sir”, Peter whispered, and another blow landed on his right cheek. “Four! Thank you, sir. Please, teach me, sir.”  
“Oh definitely”, Wade answered, raining blows in quick succession, not letting Peter catch his breath as Peter whined to get the numbers out. “That’s eight, sir. Thank you, sir”, he gasped, tears stinging his eyes and cock so hard it hurt. He would come anytime now, cock filling him up or not.  
“Colours, Pete. Can you take them harder?”

Peter breathed in deep, checking his body out. He desperately wanted to say yes, but his spine was straining a bit too hard and his scalp burning. But they could work up to that. They could work up to all the kinky scenarios in his spank bank. He intended to, at least.

“Orange. It’s been a while, Wade. We’ll have to work up to it.”  
“Only if you feel up for it, Peter”, Wade replied seriously. “Do you want to stop?”  
“No”, Peter gasped, squirming. “No, I can take two more. Just, not harder.”  
“Okay”, Wade said.

The ninth blow made the skin of his upper thighs sting and tears definitely spilled over his cheeks. The tenth sent wild shivers up and down into his body, as Wade tenderly started to massage his red backside. Slowly, Wade let go of his head and let him flop forward.

“Please, sir. I need to come, sir.”  
“See, when you want, you’re very polite”, Wade replied. “You’ll come when I say so, sweetheart.”

He squeezed his ass and flipped the light off again, grabbing the dildo and bringing it between his legs again. This time, he sank it halfway in before he started to pull it out, and then pushed it back in – to the hilt. Peter let out a broken down moan, his thighs shaking from the exertion, as Wade established a moderate rhythm, fucking the toy in and out of him, before he grabbed his cock and started to jerk him off.

“W-Wade, I’m so close, sir, please sir, I’m so close, I’m so close!”  
“Come for me, baby boy”, Wade rumbled, bent over him and weighing between his thighs, wide shoulders in the way – and Peter did.

It washed over him, something in him snapping as he spilled – mostly over the floor, though Wade’s hand caught some, as did his face. The dildo was still buried deep into him, and he carefully tugged it out as his feet started to slip on his webs. He shot a web out to catch himself, righting himself up and finally setting his feet on the ground. Right into the puddle of cum. Grimacing, he grabbed Wade’s harness and pulled him close to kiss him soundly, breathless and shaking with the after-glow.

“That was so good, Wade”, he whispered. “What do you need?”  
“I-” Wade gulped. “Ah- I want-”

Peter switched the light on again and fell to his knees, grinning up to him.

“How about I keep you safe and warm while you decide?”


	30. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade knows he's in too deep already. Sinking steadily.  
> And yet, he doesn't want to try and get out. Not when the drowning promises to be oh so beautiful.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade’s brain short-fused. Peter was looking up at him with those sinful brown eyes wide and still hazy with pleasure, lips parted and panting over his leather-clad crotch while still naked. His cheeks were flushed red and there was drying pre-cum on his cheek, and some of his own fresh release too. He looked purely debauched and Wade was _weak_ for that. His hands reached for his flies and pulled them down, taking his cock out, and Peter moaned as his hand closed around his girth. He lost no time bringing him to his mouth, lips stretching around the head and barely able to take him in. Without thinking, because all the blood that was usually in his brain had gone down into his dick, he hooked his fingers into Peter’s hair, generously coating the wet brown mop with a mix of sperm and lube. Yeah, Peter would probably hate him for that.

“A bit big for you, uh, baby boy?” he couldn’t help himself but ask, and Peter’s answer was to release him and lick his scarred shaft from base to tip without breaking eye-contact.  
“Just have to train, sir”, he finally said.  
{I’m in love.}  
[We are _so_ fucked. Like, really. We have it bad.]  
“Yeah”, Wade breathed, “we can definitely do that.”

Peter’s lips and mouth felt searing on him, even though he only had the head of his dick in his mouth. Wade slid his other hand down to cup Peter’s chin, and grinned.

“If I go slow and shallow, can I fuck your mouth, darling?”

A vibrating moan around his cock answered him, and Peter stilled, putting a hand on his thigh and giving him three sharp taps.

“Got it, sweetums. Three taps to stop.”

He felt Peter’s efforts to relax his jaw and breathe through his nose as he slowly slid a bit farther into his pliant, waiting mouth, the warm tongue rolling against his underside, welcoming him. Slowly, he pulled back, barely leaving the tip past Peter’s lips, before he pushed in again, a bit farther. So, he very much wanted to fuck Peter’s throat, watch it bulge with his width and feel Peter’s struggles to breathe as he chose dick over basic air – and he said as much to the spider.

Peter’s fingers on his thigh tightened, gripping him firmly as if to anchor himself, and Wade held still for a second, slowly rolling his hips back and forth with a light pant. Peter on his knees was so fucking _hot_ it should be illegal. But he wanted more. Slowly, he pulled himself out, holding Peter tightly while knowing the guy could break out of his hold anytime.

“Gonna manhandle you a bit, darling”, he purred, pulling him to his feet roughly and pushing him to the couch, which was close, and bending him over the backrest. Just to be on the safe side, he slicked himself up with more lube and slid between Peter’s cheeks, against his sensitive hole, gripping his hips as though he was about to fuck him into the couch.  
Which wasn’t that far from his intentions, actually.

“You can handle that, baby?” he breathed over his nape, covering Spidey’s smaller form with his own, and Peter shook against him.  
“God _yes_ , please”, Peter gasped, fingers digging into the cushions that had known better days, even with the cleaning they’d done.

Wade started slow, but quickly lost himself to the rhythm of Spidey’s rhythmic _ah, ah_ of pleasure as he thrust between the two tight buns of his ass, admiring how red he’d gotten them to be, and how his handwriting complemented Peter’s skin.

“Fuck, fuck, Peter, gonna come, gonna come!” he warned before he spilled all over the small of his back.

Peter groaned, his legs buckling, and Wade held him up even though his own legs were jelly, and arm looped around his waist and lips pressed to his now really disgusting hair.

“You were so good, damn, Petey-pie, you’re going to drive me even crazier.”  
“You know”, Peter slurred, head lolling onto his shoulder with a loopy smile, “you called my asscheeks “tight buns”, but I think you missed the stuffing part.”

Wade snorted and blew a raspberry on his shoulder.

“You dork. I’m taking care of you. We should shower.”  
“We should”, Peter groaned. “I don’t have the faith to.”  
“Morning?”  
“Mmh, yes. I don’t care about being all gross and sweaty with you, we’re both slobs anyway.”  
“True that”, Wade agreed. “Just let me-”

He grabbed the towel he’d brought and tried to wipe the mess in Peter’s hair, to no avail. Only a thorough shampooing would get rid of that. He wiped his face instead, and then, carefully, the mess on his crotch and back, and between his legs, before he did the same with his own hands and dick. Swiftly, he lifted Peter bridal-style and carried him to the bedroom, putting him on the mattress.

“Just sleep, darling, I’m gonna put on more comfortable clothes”, he said, and Peter hummed sleepily.

Swiftly, he let his suit fall to the ground and slid into sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt that would soon have holes into it. Taking a deep breath, he took off his mask and set it aside. He’d just have to put it back on before Peter woke up. Taking care not to wake Peter up, he slid into bed with him and settled against his side, knowing they’d regret their laziness in the morning, and unable to care.

Wade didn’t remember falling asleep, but it had been a restful night – though, could you really call it a night when you slept from the crack of dawn to past mid-day? He rubbed his eyes and found himself smiling softly at the armful of lightly snoring Spidey he had. Peter was still out cold, soft, relaxed and beautiful. Yes, even with all the fluids dried in his hair. Unable to stop himself, he pressed a kiss to that no longer wrinkled forehead before he pulled on the mask. A glance at his phone told him it was largely past time for them to be up and about. Gently, he rubbed at Peter’s nape, who mumbled and pressed deeper into his chest.

“Wake up, sweet-cheeks”, he chuckled lightly.  
“Mmh”, Peter answered, burrowing deeper under the covers and against him. “Don’t wan’ to”, he mumbled.  
“C’mon. I’ll make breakfast while you shower, okay? Because let’s face it, we’ve reached quite a level of disgusting.”  
“Your fault”, Peter grumbled, finally waking up.

His eyes blinked open, crinkled from the soft light coming in through the blinds, the usual dark chocolate illuminated, and more like whiskey-amber or honeyed chocolate. Wade stopped breathing for a second.

[It should be illegal, to be this beautiful.]  
_I so did not miss you. Can’t I wake up in peace?_  
{I want a go at that ass again. He’s all ready against our thigh.}

Somehow during the night, Peter had crawled over him to use his chest as a pillow, hips settled between his legs, and Wade couldn’t find it in himself to complain. Even if his own cock was hard as a rock and pinched between their bodies, or if he could feel Peter’s morning wood against the inside of his thigh. Also, Peter was still very much naked under there.

“Come here”, Wade rumbled, taking a handful of pert ass and pulling Peter up.

Peter yelped but quickly regained himself, sliding Wade’s mask up to his nose and kissing him as he started to lazily roll his hips down. Yes, absolutely perfect.

“Mmh, best waking up ever”, Peter whispered against his jaw, licking and nipping at the scarred skin without a care in the world. “I want to come with you, Wade.”

Wade shivered and slid his pants down just enough to free his cock, lining up with Peter and wrapping his hand around them. Peter shook and let out a moan, rocking into his fist as he kissed him lazily… and perhaps it was a bit too soft and too tender, closer to making love than the rough fucks they’d had until now.

[We’re so gonna regret it.]  
_We need it and you know it._

And Peter did too, if the broken noises he made said anything. It wasn’t anything like the evening before, it felt like… like _more_ , and Peter was losing himself rapidly. Wade sped up his hand a bit to catch up to him, Peter’s breath hitched and he came with a garbled moan against his mouth, spilling over them. Wade lost no time invading his mouth and claiming it, coming too and definitely overwhelmed by all the nastily sweet feelings welling up in him. _Disgusting._

The kisses turned lazy and Wade seriously wondered if they’d make it out of bed. Eventually though, Peter pulled away and knelt up, and Wade’s heart panged at the sight, when the blankets fell away to reveal him in all his naked glory. Peter smirked and bent over to grab something on the nightstand – Wade’s phone – which he handed to him.

“Take a pic, it’ll last longer.”

Wade nearly choked in surprise.

“Are you _sure_?”  
“Private use only, that’s my only condition”, Peter added with a wink, before bending slowly to look at him from underneath his lashes. “For the spank-bank”, he added in a whisper.  
“I’m not gonna pass an opportunity like that”, Wade groaned as Peter straightened up, completely on display.

The lighting and angle hid the mess in his hair, but there was still their morning release splattered over his abdomen, and Wade was pretty sure he would just _die_ -

{Dying of arousal? Is that a thing? That would be a fitting death for us.}  
[You are both complete and utter _idiots_.]

Peter took the phone as soon as the pic was taken, looked at it and clicked his tongue.

“You’re crap at taking pics, Wilson”, he said in a stern voice.

And Wade watched, amazed, as Peter twisted this way and that, taking an array of pics before dropping the phone on Wade’s chest. As Wade scrambled to pick it up, Spidey got up and directly to the bathroom, where Wade heard the shower running. Still, he took the time to look at each of the explicit and absolutely breath-taking photos Peter had taken: in one, he showed off the lithe expanse of his body, ending with his crotch settled over Wade’s shirt and hiding his own limp and scarred cock. Another showed a lustful, dark gaze direct down at him, as though Spidey had been riding him, and _damn_ Wade was hard again.

“You’re a little shit, sweetums!” he hollered, and he heard Peter cackle in answer.

He was just sitting up when his phone started to ring, Weasel’s personal number appearing on the bright screen.

[What does the fucker want?]  
{It’s too early!}  
_It’s early afternoon, dipshit_ , Wade replied before he answered the call.

“It’s better be important because there’s a gorgeous hot bod in my shower and its name starts with an S, if you catch my drift.”  
“I really, _really_ don’t want to know what you and Spider-Man get up to”, Weasel groused. “Listen, you wanted me to tell you if I heard of anything weird that might be related to your zombies, right? You feared some kind of epidemic?”

Wade straightened, attentive now.

“Yeah. What have you got for me?”  
“Not sure”, Weasel replied, “but it seemed fishy enough I knew you’d want to take a look at it. It’s in San Fran. People who had disappeared a few months ago are reappearing all over the city. Dead, with the spine torn off, from what I gathered. Or rather… well, that’s gonna sound really weird, but more like _bitten off_.”

Wade shivered.

“The _spine_? Anything else?”  
“All people between twenty and thirty-five who were remarkably healthy before their disappearance. Like, the kind who did sports more than once every month and ate green. And who presented no kind of genetic disease or anything of the sort.”  
“So people at their best, who should be more resistant. Mutants?”  
“Not as far as I know, but I can check.”  
“Do that”, Wade replied. “I’ll go up to check on this, then. It _does_ seem weird.”

He cut off the call and turned to find Peter wrapped in a towel, his arms crossed and looking at him with a thoughtful frown.

“I should go with you”, he said. “That sounds like my area of expertise.”  
“Not a good idea. Spidey is needed here, especially with the zombies. Just because we haven’t had an incident in a few days doesn’t mean we won’t have one. Also, Weasel is smarter than he seems. If he doesn’t know who you are already, he definitely will if you need days off to follow me there.” Wade smiled and stepped closer, tipping Peter’s chin up with his fingers. “I’ll take samples for you, and make sure to stay in contact.”

Peter nodded, slightly dejected but knowing that Wade was right.

“Be careful”, he replied. “Something doesn’t sit right here, I don’t like it.”  
“Don’t worry, they can’t kill me.”  
“Doesn’t mean they can’t try”, Peter replied, his lip curling in anger.  
“I’ll send you dick pics so you know I’m alright.”  
“ _This_ is why you’re annoying”, Peter said, thumping his fist lightly against his chest. “When are you leaving?”  
“As soon as I’m ready. I’ll take the sedan, to avoid flight control. It’s a two days drive, though I could probably make it in less.” He grinned and pecked Peter’s lips. “Not this time, but one day we’ll just take the car and go on a roadtrip, you and me. Stop at shitty motels where we’ll hear the couple next-door doing the cha-cha-cha real slow and end up sleeping in the car, or camping outside. Maybe we could take the pick-up, to sleep at the back?” He let his lips wander to Peter’s ear and nibbled on it, whispering: “We could get nasty there, too. Car sex is awesome.”

Peter shivered and closed his eyes for a second, before he pushed Wade away with both hands on his chest.

“That sounds like a great plan. Once I’m no longer in the red and this investigation is closed, we’ll do just that. It’s been too long since I last had vacations that weren’t forced.”  
“It’s a date, then.”


	31. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade isn't there so of course everything goes to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been very busy this week and absent this WE so I wrote this chapter today and I'm like "HEY I MADE IT IN TIME FOR THE UPDATE"

~~ PETER ~~

Peter was pretty sure he’d let things go way too far already, but he couldn’t seem to stop. The previous night had been absolutely _awesome_ , but somehow, the morning sex, as simple as it had been, had been even more. And now… Well, now Wade was leaving for whoever knew how long, on the other side of the continent. Talk about rotten luck.

He opened his bag and, after draping his towel over the back of a chair, he pulled on his clothes from the day before, since he had nothing else except his Spider-Man costume, and he didn’t feel like swinging home.

“You know, you can stay for breakfast. I’m not going yet.”  
“Nah, I should go back before they think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere”, Peter replied, shaking his head as he shrugged on his coat. “See you soon”, he added, pressing a kiss to Wade’s masked face, at the corner of his mouth.

Going to Sissy Margaret’s knowing he wouldn’t see Wade was a bit depressing, but Peter hung on. Actually, without Wade to distract him every two minutes, Peter found out Weasel was friendly enough, when he actually bothered to be. There was no one as funny as Wade, sure, but many patrons laughed when he quipped the way he did as Spider-Man. Back when he’d been with MJ, Spider-Man and Peter Parker had been two different persons, who had happened to share the same body. Peter Parker had been quiet and somewhat submissive, never daring to draw attention to himself – at his core, still the frail nerd Flash used to smash. Spider-Man was the masked vigilante with a strong set of morals, a tongue that knew how to lash out, and a knack for attracting trouble.

And then, Peter had found himself alone and the two had started to merge together. He wasn’t sure he could keep them apart now – scrap that, he _knew_ he couldn’t, Wade was proof enough of that. The crowd at Sister Margaret’s made it even harder: Peter Parker would have been eaten alive, if for some reason he had ever set foot there. Spider-Man, on the other end, should have arrested them all. And here he was, chattering and laughing with them and it didn’t feel weird – or rather, it no longer felt weird. Patrol was calm that day, and he sent a pic to Wade, a Spidey selfie from the top of the Empire State building just because he could, along with the message _the sharpie still hasn’t worn off, I don’t know whether I hate you or not_.

Wade only answered two days later with a selfie of his own: splayed out on the roof of his car, his mask clearly showing his grin. The message that came along with it said that he had clearly busted all the previous records for this kind of travel, since he’d only stopped for gas instead of taking a pause to eat and especially to sleep during what should have been a week-long travel. _Speed limits are for babies_ , he added, and Peter felt dread slide and settle against his spine at the thought of a sleep-deprived Deadpool driving well above speed limits and weaving through traffic.

**To: Daddypool.**   
_Please don’t be so reckless._

Wade answered him with a tongue-sticking emoji and Peter groaned, dropping his phone down on the counter. It was a calm night, from what he’d gathered, there was some kind of illegal meeting downtown, though he wasn’t sure if it was catch – _ah ah_ – or something else.

“Look at that”, he heard someone drawl, and he groaned inwardly.

He hadn’t heard the guy talk much, but he’d taken such an instant dislike to him that he recognized him anywhere. He looked up, swiping his phone off the counter and pocketing it in one move. Craig was one of the several gang leaders who gathered here. He wasn’t much into hired assassination, but heavily into drug deals. Recently though, it seemed he’d been trying his hand at being a pimp. That meant his relationship with Deadpool was more strained than ever, but they’d talked about it together a bit and Wade had explained how he had to tolerate the guy, if only because killing him would bring on a succession war, and then a turf war, leading to all out violence very likely to spread far and wide into New-York. Preserving numerous lives by allowing one asshole to live – however, if he went down the human-trafficking way, either Peter would have to step in as Spider-Man, or Wade would cut Craig into dices.

That wasn’t the only reason Peter didn’t like Craig. Him and his crew were outwardly homophobic and while they knew better than to flap their gums in Wade’s presence, when he wasn’t there, all the bets were out. Peter had gritted his teeth a few times through their comments, but that was only because it wouldn’t do for him to show he knew how to hold his own in a fight – _double ah ah_.

“Not so brave when your daddy’s not there to save your ass, uh?”

Peter took a deep breath and met Craig’s eyes, pulling a smile up to his lips.

“What shall I serve you tonight, gentlemen?” he asked with all the morgue he could gather.  
“Quit playing, Parker”, Craig snapped. “You shouldn’t be behind that bar; you should be working the street.”  
“I’ll take that as a compliment to my amazing physique”, Peter drawled, glaring daggers. “Once again, what shall I serve you tonight, aside from some eye-candy for you all thirsting gentlemen?”  
“Don’t play smart with me, boy”, Craig threatened leaning over the counter, and Peter couldn’t help his snort.  
“Boy? I’m like, ten years older than you, babycheeks”, he replied, mentally slapping himself for that. And Wade, for good measure, the damned man was totally rubbing off on him and _not in the way Peter liked_.

Craig’s fair, milk-coloured skin took on a puce shade of red and Peter wouldn’t have been surprised if smoke had puffed out of his nose. The very few other patrons glanced his way, entertained, but not enough to intervene.

“You’ve done it”, Craig said through gritted teeth, snapping his fingers.

Peter’s spider-sense warned him, but he couldn’t react in a completely human way to dodge the two muscles coming from either side of the bar to grab him. He made a show of struggling as they dragged him out into the bar, wondering how the hell he would pull himself out of that one.

The first punch caught him on the cheek, hard enough to make him flinch.

“Not so brave when Deadpool’s not around, uh, Parker?”  
“Not so brave when Deadpool _is_ around, uh, death-breath?” he snapped back, knowing he’d regret it.

He took another hit to the stomach, making him heave and barely holding off throwing up. This was not good. Not good at all.

“You sure are mouthy, no wonder that degenerate son-of-a-bitch keeps you around. Birds of a feather…” Craig’s fingers gripped his chin, pulling his head up, and headbutting him right into his admittedly perfect nose was _really, really_ tempting at the moment. “Word is he keeps you as his fuck-toy, but I’m not sure he’s capable of much given his state of _decay_. Shall I see for myself?”  
“Careful, Craig, that’s sounds a bit too gay for you”, Peter drawled.

The slap echoed in the room, more humiliating than painful. Craig clearly didn’t see him as a worthy opponent.

“You know”, Craig said, grabbing him by the hair to pull his head back and stare back at him, “I’ve never been much into murder, but I’m fairly certain I’ll enjoying ripping you into pieces and mailing them to that walking bag of pus.”  
“That would be a terrible idea, actually. I’m pretty sure Deadpool would make a shish-kebab out of you, and _then_ everyone would be in trouble, which is pretty much the only reason you’re still alive. Also, _rude_.”  
“Please, he wouldn’t start an all-out war to avenge the sloppy hole he’s been fucking”, Craig snorted. “You’re not worth that much, Parker, not to him at least.” His grin widened, unsettling. “However, there is some pretty cash to be made selling you, and I _really_ need it.”

That didn’t sound good, like, _at all_. Peter was starting to fear he’d gotten into something a bit too big for himself.

“Let the hot-shot go, Craig”, Weasel said, and Peter heard the distinct sound of a rifle’s security being pulled.

His spider-sense buzzed a little harder, and he forced himself not to react.

“Or what?” Craig asked arrogantly.  
“Or I’ll shoot you”, Weasel replied, his voice hard. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t do it.”  
“You won’t do it”, Craig boasted. “You’re not one to get your hands dirty, you let _Deadpool_ do your dirty work. Where’s the fag, by the way? Out on a job? Tsk, how… _unwise_.”  
“ _I_ get to insult his avocado-face”, Weasel sneered, “ _you_ , on the other hand, _don’t_. I will say it one last time: let. Peter. Go.”

Peter noticed everyone had evacuated the scene, clearly wary of being caught in a shoot-out, and not overly fond of ending up as a bet on the dead pool. It was only him, Weasel, Craig and his men.

“You’re a _pussy_ , Weasel. That’s why Wade keeps on slapping you around. Stand up for yourself a bit, before I decide you’re not worth the trouble and crush you under my boot.”  
“I warned you”, Weasel replied matter-of-factly, and Peter felt his spider-sense send a thrill of warning, making him duck instinctively.

Blood splattered all over his face, his hair and his back – whatever Weasel had shot, it was _nasty_. Peter heard Craig’s shocked gasp and looked up just enough to see the blood spreading on his chest, before he dropped dead. Everyone had fallen still around them, like time was suspended.

“Now, get out. All of you, or I won’t hesitate.”

The thugs scrambled out, dropping Peter who staggered a bit, too shocked to react. Weasel had shot at someone Wade hadn’t dared to kill, to save him. He had likely started a war in New-York, because he had thought he was saving Peter. He _had_ , in a way. Peter very nearly threw up at the realization. He wobbled back and looked at Weasel, who looked a little bit sick himself.

“You killed him”, Peter breathed.  
“You’re too goo a bartender to lose you like this”, Weasel replied. “Also, Wade would have my skin if I let anything happen to you, and I’m pretty sure your friend Spider-Man would be pissed with me too.”  
“You killed him”, Peter repeated, his eyes wide. That hadn’t just happened.  
“He was an asshole, I hated him, and its good riddance. I doubt anyone will cry about his fate”, Weasel replied, putting his gun down.  
“You… It’ll be _war_.”  
“You know why he’s been turning to prostitution lately? Because he’s losing ground. He didn’t have nearly as much power as he once did, but Wade can’t be bothered to check for that kind of thing. Also, if there’s a war, it’ll be good for business.”

Peter shot him a blank look, and Weasel sighed.

“ _Weapons_. And intelligence. I’m a merchant, Pete, that’s what I do.”

Peter stared back.

“You’re even worse than Wade.”  
“I resent that. Look, I can handle it from here. You’re clearly shaken, so go home and let me deal with this mess.”

Peter looked down at Craig’s body, blood already pooling around him, and he shuddered. There was nothing he could do here, and… well, Weasel was right. His nerves had been rattled by the experience. Not only because Craig was now _dead_ , but also because even though he had experienced sexual harassment when he was younger, he had expected that to abate as he grew older. He’d been proven wrong, and he didn’t know what to do with himself, because a not-so-small part of him was _relieved_ to see him dead. To know the threat was gone.

On autopilot, he grabbed his things and made his way out, having completely forgotten the blood on his face and shirt. Wade wasn’t here, and he didn’t know what to do. He looked up and realized, frozen, that his feet had taken him to the only place he’d called home lately. He stepped back, ready to retreat, when the door opened.

“Peter? What are you- Oh my god”, she gasped, “is that blood? Come in”, she ushered him inside.

Peter stared at the iron grip Mary-Jane had on his arm, at the threshold he hadn’t crossed in months. She was still just as beautiful, and he felt something in him break.

“MJ?” he whispered. “He’s dead. He’s dead and it’s my fault.”

He looked down at his hands, stained with red, stained with blood, and trembling. What the hell was he doing?


	32. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wade would like everyone to _please stop acting out FOR FIVE MINUTES_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhm. Craig's mess wasn't planned, I'm just as surprised as you are, and now it's like "WELP gotta clean up this". I basically got distracted from the zombie/bodies-without-spine main plot to the "now New York is a mess" side-quest with a huge side of angst for all involved.
> 
> Just a warning, next chapter will be from MJ's PoV. I don't plan for it to be recurring, but I couldn't write it from Peter's PoV because the guy is either too far down his own head or asleep. So MJ's it is.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade had succumbed to sleep the moment his head had hit the pillow in the dingy motel room he’d rented in San Fran. So, pulling two all-nighters was a _bad_ idea. He woke up with a migraine that thankfully abated after a much needed too hot shower and three cups of coffee so black and disgusting it might as well have been tar. Realistically, there had been no need for him to travel this fast, but… well, three weeks away from Peter? He wasn’t sure he could handle it, and Peter would probably realize, with his absence, that Wade wasn’t anyone he wanted to spend time with.

He was halfway to the third murder scene, though he doubted he would find anything there, just like he hadn’t at the previous ones, when Weasel called. The call ended before he could pick it up, his phone stuck in one of his pouches, only to ring again, and then a third time when he fumbled with it and missed his chance answering. By this time, his heart was beating fast: Weasel wasn’t the kind to call like this unless it was important. Something had happened, something _bad_.

“Weasel?”  
“So, uhm. I think I fucked up? I’m pretty sure I fucked up. It’s not as bad as it could have been, but it’s still kinda bad.”

[ _This_ is what if feels like when you rant? Damn, you really should stop.]  
{CAN’T HE CUT STRAIGHT TO THE POINT?}  
[There’s nothing straight about him.]

“ _Weasel_ ”, Wade repeated, his voice low and dark, clearly losing patience. “What did you do?”  
“I _unalived_ fucking _Craig_ is what happened”, Weasel replied, near hysterical.

Wade sucked in a breath. Trust Weasel to surprise him.

“You _what?_ What the fuck, Weas?”  
“He was making a pass at Parker and it was really going south _and then he said ‘you won’t do it’!”_  
“He _WHAT?”_

Wade nearly crushed his phone in his hand and forced himself to relax his grip.

“Yeah I know, the nerve! Of course I was gonna do it!”  
“Not that, dipshit!” Wade growled. “He fucking dared to _touch_ Peter?”  
“Got a few hits in before I intervened”, Weasel replied. “I don’t think it’ll be an all-out war but it’s still gearing up to be pretty bad. Also I have a corpse in my bar now. Again. Except this time _I_ put it here. Well, not anymore because I got rid of it, but still.”  
“I don’t give a shit about your alleged moral qualms”, Wade bellowed, “where is Peter?”  
“I sent him home”, Weasel replied, “he was white as sheet.”  
“I go away for one _fucking_ day-”  
“Dude, you left almost a week ago”, Weasel pointed out.  
“- and you manage to traumatize the sweetest person in the universe?!”  
“Hey! It was that or letting Craig take him away and sell him for whatever disgusting purpose of his! You’d rather your precious babycakes was forcefully working the street right now?!”

This time, Wade did crush the phone. He looked in dismay at the destroyed electronics, trying to calm down. He wasn’t anywhere near New York, and Peter was fine. He was Spidey, he could take a couple of hits from a thug.

{What the hell are you talking about? Preventing sexual assault and being the one threatened are two very different things, _as you remember very well_.}  
[That, and he didn’t act out to protect his identity, but he could have, meaning he’s likely blaming himself for the death of Craig. Not that the slimeball didn’t deserve it, but we all know how Spidey feels about killing, especially to save him.]

He managed to retrieve his SIM card intact and slid it into another phone – an old thing he would need to change ASAP, since it was meant to be a burner phone and not his personal one ¬– before he called Peter.

“Baby Boy?”  
“This is Mary-Jane speaking”, a soft, feminine voice replied. “Peter is unavailable at the moment. May I help you?”

[Mary-Jane. His ex-wife. Why is his ex-wife answering his phone?]  
{KILL THE BITCH, SHE’LL HURT HIM AGAIN}

“MJ!” Wade replied with faux-cheer. “What a pleasure! I need to talk to Peter.”  
“Listen, I saw your registered name”, Mary-Jane replied. “I assume ‘Daddypool’ stands for Deadpool. Peter told me about you, and about-” She paused. “- about what happened at the bar. So I’m guessing you’re calling about that.”

[Shit. She’s very calm, isn’t she?]  
{No wonder Peter fell for her. I would too.}  
[Didn’t you want to kill her?]  
{I can’t do both?}  
[No, you can’t do both.]

“Peter has told you an awful lot”, Wade replied, his voice going low and dark.  
“He was kind of a mess when he arrived. It was difficult to get a coherent story out of him, but I managed to piece everything back together.” She paused again. “He’s… shaken, but he’s sleeping right now. And the bruises are already healing.”  
“You… don’t seem too troubled.”

She let out a long suffering sigh.

“I’ve known Peter basically my whole life. I’ve shared his daily life for twelve years and seen him… in ways I never would have wanted to see him.” There was a silence. “And I’ve learnt something. No matter what he suffers physically, it’ll never do as much as an emotional blow, and what happened to that bar… That was the equivalent of a kick to the crotch. He hadn’t broken down like this since we were teens, and I can’t-” She gulped audibly, swallowing back tears. “I’m not enough to put him back together. I don’t know if I’ve ever been. I don’t know if anyone can be. But right now, it’s not me he needs. It’s you.”

Wade… well, Wade didn’t know what to answer to that.

“I’m on the other side of the country”, he replied.

{We can’t leave him when he needs us.}  
[What about the corpses?]  
{It can wait. Spidey needs us. _Peter_ needs us.}

Wade took a deep breath, staring at his map with each corpse represented as a red cross before he let his hand fall.

“I’m taking the first fly back to New York”, he replied.  
“Thank you”, Mary-Jane replied. “I’ll text you my address.”

{There’s no need for that, we already know where she lives.}  
[Yeah and that’s enough to be creepy. Don’t say a thing.]

“Thank you.”

She disconnected the call, and he looked at the streets around him.

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He turned and looked at the guy standing there. He had shaggy brown hair, brown eyes squinted with concern, and a large leather jacket hanging on a too-thin form, like he’d once been bulky enough and hadn’t eaten his fill in a few months. He wore army fatigue too big on him, and those looked like they had belonged to someone taller and broader, closer to Wade’s bulk.

“I’m fine”, he replied.  
“You let this fall”, the guy said, handing him out the map. “You’re investigating the murders too?”  
“None of your business”, Wade snapped, turning on his heels and marching away as he went back to ‘his’ car to get his old, barely working computer from there to get a plane ticket.

[That was rude. Also, he might have had intel.]  
 _I don’t care._  
{Peter is all that matters, blast all the others.}  
[I have a bad feeling about this. We should have listened to the weird hobo. After all, Spider-Man is a hobo too.]  
 _I don’t CARE._

Even with the ticket bought, he had a few hours to kill, and a stash of weapons to hide, since the car would likely have been reported as stolen by now – like the previous six, because who knew the road between San Fran and NYC could wreck a car like that? Not him – and if he let it out like that, he had to put his weapons elsewhere. So he rented a box, shoved everything inside, and made his way to the airport, abandoning the dark green sedan in the middle of the parking, with the keys on the contact.

He hit the ground in New York fourteen hours and thirty-six minutes after getting Weasel’s call, and he could already tell there was something big in the air. It was a feeling, a shiver creeping up his spine and settling in his bones: there would be more blood spilled, mixed with gunpowder and the tangy taste of a metallic blade, and for once, it wasn’t his fault. He took a cab to the address MJ had texted him, not knowing what to expect and fiddling with his guns so much he made the driver extra nervous – he left a big tip for that one, poor guy hadn’t deserved that scare.

The house was nicely suburban, the typical American household, with the white picket fence and everything. He half-expected small Spideys to run out in the garden, with shocks of red-hair like their mother’s.

[You know they never had kids.]  
 _I know._

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and knocked on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the dude in the leather jacket and army fatigue is important. THAT'S CALLED FORESHADOWING.


	33. Mary-Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary-Jane expected to find a miserable Peter on her doorstep.
> 
> But not like that. Oh god, not like that.

~~ MARY-JANE ~~

If she was being honest with herself, Mary-Jane had expected Peter to break down a lot earlier than that. Not that it pleased her, not at all, but she knew Peter and despite everything, she knew he really, genuinely loved her. So yeah, she had expected to find her ex-husband a complete mess at her door, and to have to reject him _again_ , which, ouch.

She hadn’t expected him to hold out for several _months_ , and she certainly hadn’t expected to find him covered with blood at her front door. So she’d done the only thing that made sense: she’d pulled him in and taken him to the bathroom, where she’d sat him down on the edge of the bathtub to take a look at his injuries, because _god_ was Peter bad at dealing with his own injuries.

“Where are you hurt?” she asked once she’d wiped the blood from his face and found not even a scratch.

Peter shook his head.

“’M not hurt”, he mumbled. “He killed him. He killed him to save me.”

Deep breaths. Now was not the moment to panic.

“All that blood isn’t your own, is that it?”

Peter’s head jerked to the side.

“No. It’s Craig’s. He’s dead. He’s dead and now there’ll be consequences and I could have stopped it, I could’ve stopped it and _I didn’t_ ”, Peter muffled his desperate screams into his sleeve, biting down hard on the fabric of his coat.

She hardly doubted _Peter_ , of all people, would have just let a man die, but Peter seemed to believe it – the same way he held himself responsible for Uncle Ben’s death even though it’d been a string of bad luck, or Harry’s even though their best friend had killed himself. So she held him tight against her, pillowing his head against her chest and sinking her fingers into his hair, which was thick with dried blood, _ugh_.

“Why didn’t you?”, she whispered, because she had years of experience, and she knew there was only one way to get answers when Peter was like this: play it like he was right, even when he wasn’t. “Why didn’t you save this Craig?”

Peter shook even harder in her arms, his fingers curling painfully against her back and she would have bruises, as he bit his lips and _oh_ , oh that wasn’t good. She knew the way he curled against her, like he was trying to make himself small and unnoticeable. He’d been doing that since they were teens and people – _erm, Flash not to name him_ – had started paying attention the him. The kind of attention he could have gone without. She did too, but she had expected it, had been warned about, had other girls to help deal with it. For Peter, it had been a bucket of ice-cold water over the head. The moment he’d realized people looked at him _like that_ , not like he looked at her or how she’d looked at him at the time, not in that way that made their toes curl in pleasure, but in that way that made cold sweat drip down their back as they looked for an escape.

“Peter? C’mon Tiger, talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”  
“I thought I was too old for that”, he whispered, so low and so breathless it was a miracle she heard it. “I didn’t think he was serious, but you should have seen the _look_ in his eyes, MJ, I’ve seen it enough to know what it means and I- _Ohmygod I’mgonnathrowup_ ”, Peter said, pushing her away and violently retching into the nearby toilet.

He was shaking heavily, skin drenched with sweat and yet cold, and now she could see the wide patch of dried, dark blood on the back of his coat. He’d been close enough to that Craig to be sprayed with his blood, and her own ran cold at the thought. Peter heaved again and then sagged down, the tremors in his body not abating yet. She went to get a glass of water and helped him drink it, steadying his trembling hands and cradling his head in her hand, before she put it down and gently rubbed her thumbs under his eyes. There was already a dark bruise forming there, the skin scrapped like whoever had hit him had been wearing rings.

“I’m going to run you a bath”, she said slowly, “and get you some tea and crackers to ease your stomach, and you will tell me what happened from the start, okay?”

His head lolled in an approximation of a nod and she straightened up to plug the tub and open the water. A shower would have been better given the state of his hair, but she doubted he could stand on his legs, trembling as he was, and she wasn’t strong enough to hold him up. Steeling herself, she pulled her hair back into a tight bun, flushed the toilet and helped Peter straighten up, enough to take him out of his coat. She noted in the back of her mind that it was brand new, and nicer than what he’d worn these last few years. As were his jeans, quite tight and a washed-out grey, and his too large Golden Girls hoodie – why would he even wear that? He slipped out of the hoodie easily, and then struggled out of his t-shirt, kicking off his shoes.

Very slowly, she took off his web-shooters and set them down on the counter beside herself, and he managed to pull himself to his feet. It was far from being the first time she’d undressed him like that, but her heart still squeezed painfully. Assured that he could stand, she turned to grab a towel, giving him a bit of intimacy while he discarded his underwear and stepped into the bath, sitting into the steaming hot water. And he told her, in fragmented words, while she rubbed shampoo into his scalp and her fingers came away a gooey red, about Wade who was Deadpool, about that strange Sister Margaret who had given him a job as bartender in a place called Weasel – a strange name for a bar, but whatever – and about Craig, about the look in his eyes that reminded him so much of _Flash_ , and she felt the anger boiling as she emptied the bath and rinsed him, his hands limp between his thighs, back bowed under too much, too much everything.

He managed to wrap the towel around his waist and she blow-dried his hair, before she gave him an old change of his clothes – sweatpants, that was all she had – and he slid into the Golden Girl hoodie once more, even though it was too large, and breathed in the fabric. He was asleep the moment he laid on the couch, wrapped in several plaids because he was always feeling cold, and she sat down on the ground beside him, a bit lost. Unsure what to do, if she even could do something.

That was when Peter’s phone rang, loud and obnoxious, _two guns, and twelve rounds, everybody falls down_ and she reached for it, like she had for years, only stopping herself when she saw the name displayed on the screen. _Daddypool_. She wasn’t exactly surprised, she had gathered from Peter’s disjointed tale that there was something between that “Deadpool” and him – something sexual, and something that wasn’t, and she didn’t want to look at this too closely because it _hurt_ – and it was fine, it was _fine_ , but it was not her place to answer, it no longer was-

“Baby boy?”

She hadn’t expected that voice, deep and dark and low, soft and worried, warm, like a midnight stroll under the stars in the middle of winter, cold and yet hot from being bundled in clothes. She had expected the dangerous edge of it, not the yearning concern that she so desperately understood. She couldn’t say what she told the man – Peter was sleeping, but not soundly, twitching and whimpering and it _hurt_ not matter how used to it she’d gotten. It hurt, because she recognized it as a bad night. The only bright thing was, Deadpool was coming for Peter.

Peter had fallen into a deep sleep, finally, _fucking finally_ , and she set out to wash the bathroom and try to clean his coat, but it would be a miracle if she got the blood out and-

Why was she crying? She had no reason to be crying, clutching at Peter’s brand new coat soaked in the blood of another man, she was fine, everything was alright, everything was- No, no she wasn’t alright, hadn’t been in a while, but like always, being close to Peter hurt much more than letting him go, and this was why, this was why she’d done it – because she was strong, but not strong enough. She couldn’t be what he needed, and it hurt to think that there was another, out there, who could fill the missing space of Peter in a way she never could. It hurt, to think the man she’d loved for so long wasn’t the one she needed most, and that all they ever did was hurt each other.

She passed besides the couch on her way to her bedroom, where Peter was still passed out cold, and she laid in bed, wrapped in her covers and feeling empty, emptier than she had in month. Sleep did not come and it left her raw and on edge, trudging to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Peter had arrived before midnight and now, dawn spilled through the windows and it felt like it was minutes ago that she opened her door on him. Peter was still sleeping, but he’d been working nights so it made sense – still, she pressed her cold fingers under his jaw and only was reassured when she felt the slow, rhythmic _ta-dump_ of his heart, just as familiar as her own. She hated how it felt like _home_ , but home with something weird, like someone had turned the pictures upside-down and pushed all the furniture two inches to the left, leaving her stumbling in a familiar environment.

She called in sick for work and opened her laptop. Everything was fine. Everything- Her phone rang with an unknown number, and she picked it up.

“Mrs Watson?”  
“Yes? Who’s speaking?”  
“I’m Peter’s boss”, the voice answered, and it didn’t make sense, why would Peter’s boss have her number, and why would he call her? “He is not answering his phone and this is urgent business.”  
“You are not making any sense.”  
“Stop playing dumb, we both know you’re not”, the man said, and he sounded on edge. “I know you spoke to Deadpool yesterday, and I know he’s coming for Peter. I don’t know the specifics of what Peter told you but neither you nor him should go outside before Deadpool is here, okay? I mean it. Your lives are in danger.”  
“…It’s about Craig, isn’t it?” she said after a moment.  
“…Yes, it’s about Craig. I don’t know what Peter told you, _dammit you shouldn’t even know that name, fucking reporter_ , but it’s… bad. Stay inside. Lock your door, and don’t come close to the windows.”

MJ felt a shiver crawl up her spine. Hadn’t Peter told her who exactly Craig had been, she wouldn’t have believed the guy on the other end of the line. But she knew, and she knew the warning was a genuine one.

“Alright. Thank you for the warning.”

The guy huffed and hung up, and she held still for a moment before she finally managed to move. Locked the doors, all of them, closed the shutters even though the day was already breaking through, make her home into a bunker – and it felt as safe as it could, but it shouldn’t have had to be. For a second, she hated Peter for the fear he always brought in her life.

“I’m sorry.”

She jumped, a hand on her heart, and nearly smashed her phone into Peter’s face. He looked dreadful – not as much as when he’d arrived, but dreadful still. She smiled, a frail, trembling thing, and shook her head.

“No, you’re not. You always do that.”

Peter frowned, took her hands in his and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles.

“I’m sorry that after everything, it’s still you I come running to. I’m trying, MJ, I swear I’m trying to- To make my body unlearn the way home. I’m sorry for everything I put you through.”

She snatched her hands out of his grip – it hurt, and she didn’t know what hurt more: to take them away, or let him keep them.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”  
“I should go”, Peter said.  
“Not yet. Deadpool is coming to get you.”


	34. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter realizes how much he's missed MJ - his best friend, more so than his wife.

~~ PETER ~~

“Deadpool is coming to get you.”

That was _not_ what Peter expected his ex-wife to say after months without contact. But since yesterday, it was the first time something felt _right_. He couldn’t stop himself from smirking.

“Deadpool? How did you even manage that?”

He vaguely remembered telling her about his new friend, the man who managed to break him to pieces and somehow stick them back together into something that made sense.

“He called you while you were sleeping. Your boss called me too. He’s expecting problems to arise from Craig’s death, so we’re on lock-down until Deadpool arrives.”  
“Wade”, Peter replied. “His name is Wade.”

MJ looked at him, her eyes as piercing as ever.

“He’s not just a friend, is he?”

Peter squirmed under her gaze.

“He’s not”, he confirmed. “I- I don’t know. It’s a bit of a mess.” He paused. “Is it because he knows who I am?”

MJ scoffed.

“Are you kidding me? Peter, you’re shit at keeping your Spider-business a secret. I knew before we even dated.”  
“Not you too! You’re too smart, MJ. You shouldn’t be counted in the polls.”

She smiled and for a second, for a second only, he breathed easier. Then her smile disappeared.

“You’re… different”, she said.  
“In a good way or a bad way?”  
“I don’t know”, she admitted, sitting down on the couch, and he went to sit on the other side of it. “Just… different. Your clothes are different, and were it not for this awful business… I’d say you seem more relaxed.”

Peter hummed.

“Well. Things changed.” He scratched his chin, and noticed he ought to shave. “I don’t know how much I told you yesterday. Jameson fired me, and that’s when I met Wade. He hooked me up with Weasel, to work as a bartender, and it’s… it’s not like anything I’ve done before, but I like it.”  
“Peter. Are you really working in an underground bar that hosts mercenaries? Because yesterday it sounded crazy, but today it sounds even crazier.”  
“When you put it like that”, he grimaced, “it does sound crazy. But the money’s good, and I keep an eye on the most dangerous criminals of New York. It’s not such a bad trade.”  
“It’s a bad trade if it puts you in contact with people like this Craig.”

Peter flinched. He hadn’t meant to, but everything came rushing back. MJ hadn’t missed it, and she quietly laid a hand on his arm to settle him.

“I was… I was taken aback, is all”, he finally replied. “I’d grown complacent, I guess.” He rubbed at his face. “It’s just. If I’d acted, Craig wouldn’t be dead. He was shit-stain, but that doesn’t mean he deserved to die. And at the same time, I was so relieved he was dead, and I’m sick with myself. A man is dead, and I’m relieved.”  
“Peter”, MJ said, her voice steel. “It’s not your fault. None of this is. Sometimes people are just shitty and it sucks, but it’s not your fault.”  
“I could have stopped him. Broken out of his hold.”  
“And then what?” She stared right back at him, and Peter found himself at a loss for words. “Then what, Peter? You’d have dragged him outside? Left him for the police to find? You and I, we know these kind of people don’t face legal consequences for their actions. The only thing you could have done is put yourself in more danger by exposing yourself as Spider-Man.” She let out a sigh. “The guy who shot him has more responsibility in his death than you do, Peter, and I’m wary blaming him. He saved your life, Peter, ill-guided as it may be.”

Peter shook his head.

“Why do I keep attracting morally-grey peeps?” he said with a long-suffering sigh.  
“Because you’re too good to be true”, MJ replied.

She looked at him for a moment – really looked at him, cataloguing every little difference.

“You’ve always been so… idealistic”, she said after a moment. “And that’s part of why I fell in love with you back then. You have this… this light, it attracts people. I always thought it was muted when you were Peter and not Spider-Man, but that’s part of what changed. It’s like… Like you’re bursting at the seams from holding all this light inside, and it’s spilling outside. You make people want to believe in something better, want to _be_ better, and that’s more of a super-power than all Spider-Man could ever do.”  
“But…?”  
“But not everyone wants to be better, to do better, and you will run yourself ragged trying to help those who are beyond saving.” She smiled. “However, if someone _can_ be saved… you can do it.” She paused. “I don’t like that you’re working in such a dangerous place, but I understand. You go to the doctor when you’re sick, not when you’re feeling well… These people need you and Spider-Man much more than the ones leading average lives. The police is there to care for the ones with average lives, but who will help the pariah, the lost and the broken?”

Peter wiped his tears and squeezed her hand before letting go.

“Thank you”, he said, voice thick with tears. “It means a lot to me.”  
“You’ve always stood up for the underdog, Pete, even when you _were_ the underdog. I’ll be cheering for you from the side-lines.” She grinned and slapped his thigh. “I’ll make us some coffee, alright?”  
“Wonderful idea”, Peter replied, glad for the change of subject.

She came back with two steaming cups, handing him one before she sat back down and took a sip of hers.

“Now, tell me about Deadpool. I knew you were bi but I never expected you to actually get over yourself and go after a guy.”  
“Isn’t it a bit of a weird subject?” Peter pointed out.

She shrugged.

“I’ve always liked the gossip and you know it. Is he good in bed?”

This time, Peter nearly spat his coffee out, and she burst out laughing.

“What? I want to know! I’d gather he is, given how relaxed you’ve been so far.”  
“I’m _not_ telling you that!”

As he screeched, Peter realized he’d missed that – the frank camaraderie they had at their beginnings. Had they always been better friends than lovers? He couldn’t remember. MJ settled against the armrest and prodded him with her socked foot, grinning into her mug.

“Yes you are. I know you, Peter Parker, and right now you just want to gush about the new sex-god in your life.”  
“You are an _awful_ friend, MJ”, Peter retorted. He paused, thoughtful. “I’ve never seen him naked.”  
“WHAT?” she blurted out, sitting up so fast she nearly spilled her coffee on the couch.  
“He keeps the suit on”, Peter explained. “So I’ve never seen him naked.”  
“Hold on. The leather suit I saw on that dreadful Bugle pic?”  
“The very same. That’s the least flattering photo ever, we look like some kind of swamp monster.”

She tilted her head.

“Brock has never been much of a photographer, his thing is more investigation journalism. I don’t understand why he sold this pic to the Bugle. Also, sex in a leather suit? Kinky.”

Peter shrugged.

“He probably needed the money. I heard no one has seen him here in a few months, maybe he finally ditched New-York to go elsewhere.”  
“ _Or_ he’s onto a story. I never understood your obsession with the guy. I mean, I thought maybe you had the hots for him, but now I doubt it.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“MJ, I’ve never met him and you know why.”  
“Because he’s entirely too good at his job and would have very probably found out who Spider-Man is if he had you in his sights”, she replied with a grin. “You’re lucky he works at the Globe and not at the Bugle. Jameson would definitely have unleashed him onto your trail.”  
“He’s _great_ at what he does, his photos are just crap.”  
“I’m kinda mad that you two never worked together. Can you imagine what kind of crazy article you could have written?”  
“Yes, it would be titled ‘Spider-Man Unmasked’ and I would have taken a bunch of selfies”, Peter drawled.

MJ snickered, drained the last of her mug and set it down on the coffee table. There was a silence that slowly became uncomfortable, and she grabbed the remote to switch on the TV.

“If we’re to be stuck inside until your boyfriend comes to pick you up, I want to binge watch the last season of _Downtown Abbey_.”  
“You still haven’t seen it?” Peter snorted.

She kept on postponing, had been since said season came out two years ago, and would likely have kept on doing it since she was entirely too busy with work. She’d thrown herself into her work after he’d left the house – had started to a bit before, but not to the extent she had after.

“I’m lead on a new movie”, she said after a moment. “I almost didn’t take the job, to tell you the truth, but the pay is royal and it’s a one in a lifetime occasion.”  
“That’s great! What is it about?” Peter asked, turning to look at her.

She was staring at the screen.

“The working title is ‘Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Woman’, but that’s definitely too long.”  
“You’re shitting me”, Peter replied in disbelief.  
“I’m not”, she replied, a hand on her eyes, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “The worst is that the script is good, and the cast is amazing.” She peeked between her fingers. “They hired Ryan Reynolds to play you. _Well_ , not you _you_. Spider-Woman’s boyfriend, who needs to be rescued from the evil Doctor Octopus.”  
“…who’s playing Doc Oc?”  
“Carrie Fisher”, she said in a breath. “My character is called Gwen Stacy.”  
“Like the police chief’s daughter?” Peter replied. “Wasn’t she in class with you?”  
“Until she emigrated to England for her studies, yeah”, MJ nodded. “She was the director’s girlfriend before she died, apparently it’s his way of paying her a tribute.”  
“I remember that story”, Peter frowned. “It was a hostage situation with the Mandarin, wasn’t it?”

MJ nodded.

“Tony Stark is financing part of the movie. I don’t think he ever forgave himself for her death.”

Peter nodded. He didn’t know Iron Man that much – didn’t exactly get along with him – but he knew enough to know Gwen’s death had deeply rattled the man. Not fast enough. Simple as that, really. He hadn’t been fast enough, just like Spider-Man hadn’t been fast enough to save Harry.

“Well, I’m glad for you. I want all the gossip, though.” He paused. “Ryan Reynolds?”

MJ glanced at him and smirked.

“I knew you had a bit of a crush.”  
“Did not!” Peter protested, flushing deep red. “It’s just… he’s nothing like me.”  
“I’m nothing like Spider-Man”, MJ retorted, “that’s called acting, Tiger. I thought you knew that by now.”

Peter grumbled under his breath and returned his attention to the TV. They only paused to prepare a quick lunch and make more coffee, settling in a comfortable silence, when they were not babbling about the on-screen story. Night was falling already – as winter got close, the days kept on getting shorter – when there was a knock at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never watched Downtown Abbey, don't intend to, but for some reason that's the only show my mind would provide me for this.


	35. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's time to get out

~~ WADE ~~

{Holy shit she’s gorgeous.}

Wade had to give that to Yellow – Mary-Jane Watson was downright gorgeous. He had expected it, had seen her in interviews and TV shows, but seeing her in real, it was not the same thing. Her red hair was loosely piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she had obviously been lounging in soft pants and a large sweater.

“Come in”, she said once she’d recognized him, opening the door a bit wider.

Weasel had texted him how he’d told her to barricade and he was pleased to note she’d taken the advice. She led him into the living-room, where the TV was still playing in the background. Peter was sprawled on the couch, wrapped in blankets, but he looked up to meet his gaze and grinned.

“Hello Wade.”  
“You’re the worst”, Wade replied. “How are you doing?”  
“I’m fine”, Peter replied with a shrug. “Nothing really happened, thanks to Weasel.”  
“Bullshit”, Wade spat out, squeezing his shoulder. “Sometimes what _could_ have happened is even more frightening than what did happened.” He looked aside and met MJ’s concerned gaze. “Pack your things, sweetie. You’re coming with us.”

MJ sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“I was afraid you might say something like that.”  
“Things are not safe right now”, Wade replied. “I’m bringing you to a safe-house and you’re staying there until this is over.”  
“I didn’t say no”, MJ pointed out. “Believe me, it’s not the first time I’m relocated for my own safety.” Her gaze turned into a glare. “You have three months. After that, I’m starting to shoot a movie.”

{I like her. So, so much.}

She retreated to her bedroom where she started to gather things, and Wade turned his attention back to Peter. The man wore his Golden Girls sweatshirt, stolen from his last trip at Wade’s, and drown in it. Their eyes met, and Peter’s gaze hardened.

“I’m not going into hiding.”  
“Never thought you’d want to”, Wade chuckled. “I’m not asking you to. I know you can handle yourself well enough. However, I’m relocating you to another safe-house until this is over. I’ll drop by at yours and gather your things.”

Peter let out a sigh, untangled himself from the blankets and stood up.

{He’s gorgeous too. Damn, but they made one hell of a couple. Spank bank material, that.}  
[You’re the worst.]

Wade blinked. Peter looked… soft. Like a cat that had woken up from a nap. The spider hadn’t missed the moment of white-noise in Wade’s head, his lips quirking up into that damn smirk – the one that put Wade on his knees in a heartbeat. Slowly, with a predator’s prowl, Peter stepped closer and reached up, rolling Wade’s mask up to his nose before slotting their mouths together.

Wade let out a little gasp and finally relaxed into the touch. Peter was safe, and he would remain so. Wade would make sure of that. Damn, but he was so far gone for the man. His gloved hands curled around the back of Peter’s skull, keeping him close as he breached past Peter’s lips and invaded his mouth, taking in the taste of him, along with his warmth and his sheer _presence_. He was out of breath by the time they parted, fingers sliding down to his shoulders.

“Don’t scare me like that again, sweetums. I really hate the thought of anyone else touching you.”

Peter chuckled.

“Possessive much, daddy?”

{OH FUCK}  
[THAT LITTLE SHIT]

“ _Damn_ , boo, don’t do that to me”, Wade whined, burying his face in Peter’s shoulder as he enveloped him into a hug.

Tension leaked out of Peter’s body at the warm, safe embrace, and Wade decided that cuddles were necessary. Peter stepped away first and Wade almost asked what was wrong, before he heard what Peter’s enhanced senses had noticed before he did: MJ, trudging down the stairs with a large duffle bag, her clothes changed to cargo pants with pockets full, a warm jumper and a practical coat with tons of pockets. Wade couldn’t stop his non-existent eyebrows from climbing up his forehead at the sight.

“You know, when I said safe-house, I didn’t mean a cabin in the woods.”  
“I’ve done enough running for my life to know what to expect”, MJ replied drily. “I’d rather have practical, sturdy clothes on than lounge pants.”  
“Fair”, Wade admitted, before he turned to the door, a gun in his hand. “Coming in was easy, it’s coming out that’s going to be dangerous.”  
“You didn’t”, Peter said flatly.

Wade grinned under his mask.

“I parked the car in front of the house. The doors are open already, you run straight to it and get inside, got it?”

Peter and MJ nodded, and Wade threw the door open, ready to shoot. He easily avoided the first bullet and answered in kind, sheltering Peter and MJ from the fire as they made a break for the car. MJ hurriedly opened the door and threw herself in the backseat, taking her bag along. Peter, the mad man, instead of going after her, crouched and made his way around the car to slide in the driver seat. Wade grumbled and lunged after MJ, closing the door just as Peter peeled off the asphalt.

“Why the hell are _you_ driving?”  
“You just took three bullets for us, Wade! I’m not letting you drive with your leg looking like that!” Peter snapped as he weaved the car into the evening traffic efficiently.

[Idiot.]  
{ _That_ ’s what hurt like a bitch}, Yellow realized.

Wade looked down and finally noticed that yeah, there was a bullet hole already healing in his thigh, and two others in his abdomen, bleeding heavily. The car seat was lost, now. His suit too.

“Oh my god”, MJ said, and Wade looked up to find her sheet white, staring at his bleeding stomach. “This- You must go to the hospital!”

Wade eyed her, incredulous.

“Are you kidding me? What would they do?”  
“I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of wound you DIE FROM”, MJ retorted, looking around and searching for something to stop the blood flow – which was already thinning.  
“When you’re not me, sure”, Wade replied with a shrug – OW, _bad idea_. “Super healing?” he added when MJ stared at him dubiously. “Peter, what the fuck, you didn’t tell her I’m immortal?!”  
“That didn’t seem important at the time!” Peter retorted through gritted teeth, driving them who knew where.  
“NOT IMPORTANT?” MJ and Wade replied in unison.

[He has a weird sense of priorities.]  
{So do we, to be honest.}

Wade was already completely healed, though it didn’t stop his nerves from screeching in agony, and he manoeuvred himself into the passenger seat to guide Peter.

“A warehouse? Seriously?” Peter snorted as he parked the car in a pretty much abandoned building, out of sight. “I thought we were going into safehouses!”  
“Yeah, and they won’t be safe for long if you drive _this_ car to the front door”, Wade pointed out. “Sometimes I wonder how you survived your villains for so long, you know.”  
“Because I was there”, MJ replied wryly.  
“Hey!” Peter protested.  
“No, no, she has a point”, Wade said, shaking his head. “You’re a disaster on legs, Peter. Much as I happen to _love_ those legs, you’re still a disaster.”  
“You won’t win my heart like that”, Peter grumbled, crossing his arms.

Wade grinned and raised Peter’s chin with his finger, forcing him to look into his eyes – or rather, the white lenses of his mask.

“I’m buying us tacos for dinner tonight”, he purred.  
“Sold”, Peter replied immediately. “Which reminds me that I’m totally gonna be late to work. I assume Weasel knows.”  
“He does”, Wade confirmed. “Now, you take this key”, he added, pulling a key from one of his pouches, the small pink donut keyring dangling awkwardly from it, “and you take Mrs Watson here, and you bring her to this address.” He then proceeded to whisper said address in Peter’s ear, whose eyes widened as he realized just _where_ that was. “It’s the safest one, for exactly this kind of hang-up. She’ll be safe and cared for, okay?”

Peter nodded and glanced at MJ, who didn’t look very happy to be ignored like this. She had her bag in hand and looked ready to go. Peter pulled his mask from his hoodie’s pocket and slipped it on, before he turned to look at Wade.

“Meet up at yours?”

Wade nodded.

“You’ll stay there tonight, and I’ll take you to another safe-house tomorrow. Now go, I need to get rid of this”, he added, pointing to the car.

He looked as MJ put the bag on her shoulders like she’d done so many times before she hopped onto Peter’s back with the ease of habit, hooking her ankles around his thighs to let him have his mobility while clinging as best as she could. Swiftly, Peter webbed her hands to his chest, and her feet to his legs, before running and taking a leap, shooting off into the sky.

{We are so, so in love.}  
[He’s staying tonight. He’s staying tonight, with us, after an emotionally trying ordeal. You know what that means.]  
 _Please, please, for the love of everything that is holy… don’t distract me._  
{Too late.}  
[I’m seriously regretting this hard-on. It’s very uncomfortable.]

Wade let out a sigh and tugged slightly at the back of his mask. Before Weapon X, he’d done that with his hair and he had never lost the habit, even though he had no hair to speak of now.

“I hate you guys”, he muttered before he turned to the car.

He always loved a bit of property destruction.


	36. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a new player appears.

~~ PETER ~~

It had been a long time since Peter last swung with MJ. Months. No, years. He’d missed it. He always liked looking at the streets from above, but not today. Not when their desperate flee from MJ’s house had apparently been the spark everyone had been waiting for to go fucking nuts. Barely two days had been more than enough for the different rival factions to gear up for war, just so they could get some of Craig’s former territory. He definitely had to learn more about that, or it would quickly become a nightmare.

He nearly didn’t dodge in time.

As it was, he did acrobatics that made MJ scream shrilly into his shoulder and landed hard on a wall, his kneecaps definitely not liking that. He was pretty sure he’d just cracked one. He had to leap away a second after, cursing the burning in his knee, before he and MJ could become red paste on the wall.

“What’s your deal, man?!” he asked, swinging away and turning to face his adversary.

The man wore some kind of black and purple armour, with boots that let him fly. And a cape. A fucking cape, like the drama queen he so obviously was.

“Two things”, the guy replied through a voice modulator. “The whereabouts of Peter Parker, please. And that you don’t intervene in the war he started. I would… distaste to kill you.” The man tilted his head. “Actually, you may just give me Mrs Parker here. She’s a fine enough hostage, I know Peter will show up.”  
“Absolutely not”, Peter replied, outraged. “Man, and here I’d been happy of the lack of animal-themed villains since Doc Oc’s death.”  
“Do I seem to be animal themed to you?” the guy snapped back, and oh Peter had apparently hit a nerve.  
“I don’t know, man, you tell me. I’ve never seen you around before. What should I call you? It’s for my villains’ gallery, you see. I keep an album.”

There was a silence and the guy stared at him, apparently dumbfounded. Not that intent on killing him and raising hell, then. Probably a mercenary, if Peter had to guess. Definitely better than crazy scientists, he’d had enough of those for a lifetime.

“…Prowler. You may call me Prowler.”  
“Prowler, uh? It has a nice ring to it. Definitely animal-themed, though, buddy. Sorry to break it out to you. Now, as you can see I’m quite busy and I’m afraid I can’t agree to your conditions. You see, I do care about Mr. Parker’s well-being, and about the safety of our streets. If the gangs have decided to wage war in my streets, I’m definitely gonna meddle. I’m sure you understand. Also, there’s a zombie outbreak, so I’m not out of problems to solve.”  
“They told me you were annoying, but I wasn’t expecting the sass”, Prowler confessed, uncrossing his arms as he hovered ominously. “Still, I can’t let you go.”  
“Alright then”, Peter shrugged, and shot two globs of webfluid at the reactors that allowed Prowler to hover.

With the next, he grabbed the man before he fell and tied him up securely to the side of the building, patting his cheek before he bolted, intent on seeing Mary-Jane to safety before it could get worse.

“If you deal with all the villains like that, it’s no wonder they want you dead”, MJ muttered, but he could feel her smile against his shoulder.  
“This one was new, and if my own experience is telling me anything, it’s that he’s really fucking young. I doubt he’s really a bad guy, most likely a lost kid who made some bad decisions”, Peter answered, a bit disturbed by the encounter.  
“How would you know that?”  
“Small things. The armour was good, but his moves were off, like he wasn’t used to his limbs being there. Growth spurt will do that to you. Heavy padding in his armour, to hide that he hasn’t got much width to him thanks to that same growth spurt. It’s hard to be intimidating when you look like a twig. He was kind of hesitant to attack us, and even though I was there and quite obviously more dangerous, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Not that I blame him, but a man with more experience would have known not to get distracted. And his speech pattern. It was too uppity and serious, like a kid attempting to sound like an adult.”

MJ twisted to look at him in the lens.

“And you got all of that from a five minutes encounter. You know, sometimes I’m still baffled by the smarts hiding under all that blabbering foolishness.”  
“I’ll take that as a compliment”, Peter huffed, before taking off again.  
“Peter, this is Manhattan. What are we doing in Manhattan?”  
“You’ll see”, Peter replied with a grin that she couldn’t see.

No one else tried to stop them as they swung between the skyscrapers. Peter lowered them down in an alleyway, stuffing his mask in his pocket after he’d undone the webs keeping MJ stuck to him for the flight, and guided them to the front door of the building. It was a skyscraper like there were dozen others, but Peter knew where they were going. The guardian quirked a brow at them but said nothing, observing as Peter guided MJ to the last elevator in the corridor. It could only open with a key, as it led directly to the penthouse on the last floor.

“I’m more confused with each second that passes”, MJ warned him.  
“Wade is a generous man. You’ll want for nothing, and the only safest place you could be in would be a bunker. Except this will be way more agreeable than a bunker, I believe. Or maybe Avengers Tower, but then you’d have to contend with the likes of Stark.”  
“He’s not _that_ bad”, MJ replied with a smirk. “You just don’t like him.”  
“And how would _you_ know that, mmh?”

MJ stared back at him like he was dumb, and he wondered what absolute foolishness he’d just said to get such a look.

“Peter. He’s paying for most of the movie I’m going to be a part of. _Of course_ I’ve met the guy. And I even have something for you: he had absolutely nothing against you.”  
“Against me, or against Spider-Man?” Peter asked warily.  
“Against Spider-Man. As for Peter Parker, I believe he’d rather be _against_ you.”  
“…Was that an innuendo or is it my brain that goes immediately to the dirty thoughts?”  
“The poor man was trying very hard to decide whether he wanted to seduce you or me, and bemoaning our divorce because it forced him to make a choice”, MJ smirked.  
“Uh. I’m confused- Are you telling me I’ve got a ticket with Tony Stark?”  
“You know what? If you’re that curious, ask him yourself”, MJ replied just as the doors opened and she strode out, before stopping abruptly. “Oh. Wow. If I didn’t think it would end into a bloody slaughter, I would have said there’s more than enough place for the three of us to hide here. Mercenary is a good job, it seems.”

Peter snorted – that would be a _terrible_ idea. He wandered past her and whistled at the sight of the penthouse, even though he had expected it.

“Yeah, you’ll be settled like a queen. Do you need anything?”  
“Don’t get yourself killed. And try to drop by, even though I know it might be a bad idea.”  
“I’ll get a burner phone to call you. Is it an appropriate compromise?”

She sighed.

“Yes. Go on, don’t make Wade wait for you.”

Peter nodded, pocketed the key and pulled his mask on again, taking a leap from the balcony. Time to meet Wade at his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We won't see Prowler much once the issue with the gangs is settled, as he'll be a major character of the third arc (post-SM:ITSV events).


	37. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [When did things become so domestic between us?]  
> {The moment we laid eyes on him, duh.}

~~WADE ~~

Wade had never set foot in Peter’s apartment before, and he was appalled. It was cramped, humid and cold. Shaking himself, he set out to find a bag and finally found the backpack Peter seemed to favour, even though it was bordering on ragged. He stuffed some clothes in it, and retrieved the spidey suit from… well, from the hamper. It was a wonder the colours had never bled out, if he simply stuffed it into a washing machine. Swiftly, he stuffed a large notebook that appeared to be Peter’s notes on Virus Z into the bag, and a quite large box into another bag after he’d opened it and discovered webfluid cartridges. Along with it was another notebook filled with webfluid experiences, along with materials for the suit.

He knew he had to hurry up, as it was, it was already a miracle no one had tried to kill him just for being there. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from peering at an aging photo. An older – maybe even elderly, what with the lines on their faces and their white hair – couple smiled, their arms wrapped around a gangly teenager with unmistakable large brown eyes, half-hidden behind large-framed glasses. Carefully, he took it from the wall, along with the few others that were there, above the desk: on one he recognized that same teenage Peter, with red-haired MJ and Harry Osborn, on another was a couple holding a baby, who had to be Peter’s parents, the so-called Aunt May, and Uncle Ben. Spider-Man. The last one gave him pause, and he almost left it there. Himself. He couldn’t figure out when Peter could have taken such a photo. He was half-unmasked and grinning lazily, looking away from the camera and pointing at something.

There was a large crash as someone broke through the door, and Wade hastily wrapped up and got ready to depart. He had expected that – Peter’s address wasn’t exactly a secret, the gangs would easily find him here. But if they did not find him, they would certainly trash the place. He had taken everything that could betray Peter’s identity as Spider-Man, a few precious memories, and he needed to bolt if he didn’t want that to be for naught.

“THERE HE IS!”

[So much for the discreet retreat.]

Wade turned just long enough to shoot at the assailant as he jumped through the open window he’d arrived through, the one Peter always left open. The bullet connected with flesh and he shoot a grapnel to stop himself from splattering a few stories down. He had two heavy, full-to-bursting backpacks on his back, constricting his movements, but he made it to the roof without accident.

…Alright, he _may_ have lost a box of chewing-gum on the way up. And possibly a stapler too. And three firecrackers. He started to run, intent on getting away as fast as possible, and ducked in the shadows of an alcove in a dingy alleyway when he heard people searching for him. They passed right by him and he waited a bit more, to be sure they were gone, before unfolding himself from his hiding place. Now his suit stank. Not that it hadn’t before, with the blood drying on it. He could also feel drafts of cold air where the bullets had pierced the material barely even an hour ago and that was not pleasant. At all.

From there, he climbed up again and travelled from rooftop to rooftop. Not his favourite, but by far the best one if he wanted to avoid the murderous crowd set out to avenge Craig, and the gangs who were already out and about, hoping to take what had been his territory. By now, Peter had to be at his place – Spidey was certainly faster than he could ever be. He landed on the rickety safety stairs with a clang: the window was still just cracked open, but peering through the glass, he could see Peter stretched out on his stomach, on the couch, and staring at their rope map on the wall. He was dishevelled but otherwise seemed fine. His socked feet were slowly swaying in the air and Wade had the sudden realisation that this all looked far too domestic.

“Oh, you’re back!” Peter said with a grin, turning to him. “MJ is safe. However, there’s a new player. Calls himself Prowler.” His grin turned to a frown. “What happened?”  
“They got into your cupboard of an apartment as I exited. I took everything I could”, Wade replied, setting the two bags down by the couch.

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, and nodded.

“Thank you, Wade.”

Slowly, he sat up and stood up, limping his way to Wade, who grabbed his waist and held him up.

“You’re injured?”  
“Rough landing”, Peter replied with a rueful smile. “Like I said: Prowler. My knee didn’t like it.”  
“Let me see”, Wade said, picking him up off the ground and setting him back down on the couch. He rolled the leg of his trousers up and winced at the sight of his knee. “Don’t move”, he warned, before making his way to his bedroom.

He came back with a health kit and two packs of ice, gently cleaning and disinfecting the skimmed skin – that was annoying but not painful enough to cause a limping, not for Spider-Man – before he wrapped the ice around the swelled joint.

“Your knee ‘didn’t like it’? Is that how kids these days call a cracked kneecap? You’re lucky it’s not shattered!”  
“I’ve had worse”, Peter retorted with a pout, arms crossed over his chest. “Besides, my healing factor is decent enough.”  
“That’s not exactly reassuring”, Wade pointed out, grabbing his phone. “You’re not going to Sissy Margaret’s like that, the damage would only get worse. I’m calling Weasel.”  
“But I could-”

Wade stuffed a ball of cloth – which he hoped was clean, he had no idea where it’d come from – into his mouth, muffling his words, and pressed call. Peter was glaring at him above the makeshift gag, already pulling at it to get it out of his mouth. Weasel didn’t protest – an injured barman was of no use to him, after all, especially if he had the whole city after him – and Wade ended the call only for Peter to fling him the gag.

“This thing is _disgusting_. I don’t ever want to know what it was.”  
“Perfect. I’ve _no idea_ what it is.” He stretched, feeling his joints and spine pop, and let out a groan. “I’m gonna get us some tacos, as promised. Pick a movie”, he added, nodding to the TV. “I’ll be back in five.”

The closeness of the taco-truck was the only reason he was still going after learning Peter was injured. Otherwise, he would have made something with whatever was in the fridge. He came back exactly five minutes later and found Peter sprawled on the couch, his arm thrown over his eyes. Silently, he put the bag holding the tacos on the coffee table and watched Peter for a few seconds, determining what was going on. Deciding it was nothing serious, he sat down on the younger man’s stomach, who let out a sound as though he was dying and tried to buck him off.

“Get off you idiot!” Peter wheezed, “I’m dying here!”  
“You make a lot of noise for a corpse”, Wade pointed out.

A second after, he was sprawled face-down on the floor, with Peter straddling his back and moaning in pain as his injured knee had hit the floor. Wade couldn’t stop himself from cackling at that.

“That’ll teach you!”

Peter let out a snarl and put his arm in a lock, his own forearm weighing on his nape as he leaned forward to talk in his ear.

“If you want to spar, you’ll have to do better than that”, Spidey whispered, his warm breath brushing over his ear.

[Oh no.]  
{…please fuck us into the floor.}

“…That’s one of the most awkward hard-ons I ever got”, Wade replied, and Peter snorted.  
“Yeah? You like having me weighing you down? Being at my mercy?”

He let out a whimper and knocked Peter off, the coffee table screeching aside at their tussle, slotting himself in between Peter’s leg and pinning his wrists to the floor above his head.

“Kinda, but I also like you like this. With your legs spread for me.”

{I’m pretty sure that’s not a gun we’re feeling.}

Peter grinned and it was a sultry thing that nearly made Wade’s heart stop, before he felt Spidey’s ankles cross over the small of his back and pull him closer, their crotches grinding together. Something fire in his brain and he nearly collapsed, letting out a gasp.

“Fuck, Peter!”  
“That’s the idea”, Peter replied, shifting again, his eyes fluttering. “You feel _so_ good.”

As he said so, though, he flipped them over and settled over Wade’s hips, slowly grinding against him, his wrists still held in Wade’s hands, who stared at him, wondering if maybe he was having another one of those nice dreams. He’d sure had enough of them lately, not that he complained, but he’d rather have the real deal.

“I want to take you apart”, Peter breathed, staring right back at him and rolling his hips. “Make you feel so good you lose your mind. Your knees on my shoulders while I take you deep.”

Wade let out a noise he couldn’t quite identify and let go of Peter’s wrists to grab his hips, unsure whether he wanted to stop him or accompany his movements. His hands didn’t stay there long, though: Peter grabbed them and pinned them to the ground, shooting some webs to his wrists to hold him down. Wade couldn’t stop himself from testing the strength of the restraints, and found himself unable to break free of the webs. Peter stilled.

“Safe word, babe?”

Wade gulped.

“Pentagon.”

Peter lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment, and Wade had to bite down on his lips to stop himself from blurting out his very long and compelling reasoning that had let to his choosing such a safe-word. He didn’t want to go on a rant, no right now. Slowly, Peter moved up, lifting Wade’s mask as he went, and bending down for a kiss even though Wade knew his knee had to be killing him. His kiss was slow but thorough, a gentle and skilful plundering that melted what remained of Wade’s brain. A nip at his bottom lip, followed by a thumb dragging along it, hooking past his teeth as Peter grinned, feral.

“I want to suck you off. Have wanted to for quite some time. Can I?”

Wade whimpered. Oh, the thought of that delicious mouth stretched wide to take him in, of the soft gagging when Peter would take too much at once – because he would, Wade knew him enough now to guess that accurately.

“One condition”, Wade said, voice rough with desire… desire and fear.

{No. No don’t do that. That’s a fucking bad idea.}  
[For once I agree with Yellow, it’s a really bad idea. Really, really bad one.]

“Tell me, precious”, Peter whispered, hands brushing down his sides.  
“That you can take my mask off and not feel utterly disgusted.”

On his chest, Peter stilled.

{Yep. Bad idea.}  
[We’re gonna regret that one.]


	38. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Un-Masking.

~~ PETER ~~

For a moment, Peter thought he had misheard. But there was no way you could mishear something like that – something so important. Slowly, he bent forward again and slotted his mouth to Wade’s, pouring the joy and nervousness he was feeling into it. He almost blurted out an “I love you” before reeling himself in, shocked. Where had _that_ come from?

“You sure?” he asked anyway, because he needed to be certain it was what Wade wanted.

Wade gulped.

“Certain.”

So Peter slid his hands up to the half-rolled up mask, gently pulling it off. He expected the scarred skin, and he was deeply familiar with the soft lips that would crack if not taken care of, currently red and swollen from his kisses. The jaw, sharp enough to kill a man – not that Peter needed killing or that Wade needed one weapon more, but still. Wade’s nose appeared, straight in spite of the numerous time it had to have been broken. High cheekbones, but not too sharp, speaking of health, of food plenty, and not of starvation. The eyes he’d seen before, once, above a medical mask, blue and filled with worry. The same blue as a winter sky, not as sharp as a cloudless summer, but soft and gentle, dulled if not for the wit and mischievousness sparkling in them. The mask slipped off completely, revealing a bald, scarred scalp, which felt soft under his fingers, bumpy still, but not rough.

Slowly, he trailed his fingers over Wade’s features – awed. There were hints of what had once been a model-worthy face, but now it was something… other. Beauty in the eye of the beholder. There was something genuine about Wade’s naked face, something that made him feel warm inside. Gently, he kissed him again.

“Thank you for your trust”, he whispered.

Wade gulped nervously and closed his eyes for a second.

“You’re not screaming yet. Do you feel like running for the hills? I won’t hold it against you if you do.”  
“Are you mad? Why would I do that? Wade, you’re perfect just the way you are. I’m pretty sure the way you were before Weapon X, I would have been completely unworthy of you. I feel like a mortal who found one of the gods smitten by their own brethren- it feels like I’ve been blessed, precious.”  
“Did you just compare me to a Fallen? Am I such a demon in your eyes?” Wade asked, his non-existent eyebrows going up, amused.  
“No so much a Fallen”, Peter replied, “as one unjustly punished. Do you know the myth of Prometheus?”  
“Wasn’t he the one who stole the fire from the gods and gave it to humankind?”  
“Exactly. Wade, you’re Prometheus. Punished cruelly for doing what is right, and all the greater for it.”

Wade grinned and surged up, kissing him – and nearly knocking his teeth out in the process. As it was, Peter’s nose suffered from the attempt.

“Ow!” he howled, pulling back and holding his nose. “That’s it, you’re banned from kissing!”  
“Nooo Pete-pie please that was an accident!”  
“At the moment I’m more interested in kissing Wade junior before my knee decides to give up, if you catch my drift”, Peter replied with a sultry smile.

Through Wade’s incredibly blue eyes, he could see his brain fry at the image. Chuckling, he crawled backwards until he was settled between Wade’s legs and busied himself with opening his unnecessarily complicated flies. Keeping an eye on Wade’s reactions, he slowly took him out and let out a moan when he finally had him in hand. His fingers stretched around his width and he fought back a wave of arousal, shimmying down to a more comfortable position and thankful for his sweatpants instead of his usual jeans – or God forbid, his suit. He stroke once, twice, feeling Wade shiver and hearing him gasp, the muscles in his thighs bunching up with the efforts of keeping his hips down.

Peter brushed his lips against Wade’s cock, trailing up to the crown, mouthing a kiss there, lapping at the head with a coy gaze that earned him a mad scrabble against the floor. Wade’s head thumped back loudly when he mouthed down, nuzzling at the base of his shaft, before coming up again and opening his mouth, stretching his lips to wrap them around the head. He could already tell his jaw was going to hurt, opened wide to accommodate him – and he relished in it. He wanted to feel it, to remember with every word and every sigh how Wade had felt, heavy on his tongue, languidly sliding into his mouth as he took him deeper.

“Fuck, _Peter_!” Wade growled, hands tugging at his webbed restraints without breaking free.

His hips lifted off the ground when Peter sucked, pre-cum pouring on his tongue and down his throat, the merc letting out a chocked off moan that could have been a plea for mercy. It was hard to tell, as Wade was becoming rather incoherent. Peter pulled off and laid his cheek against his thigh, smirking lazily.

“Is something the matter, precious?”  
“Fucking tease”, Wade answered, and Peter hummed in reply.

His lips parted again to take him in and he dove deeper, feeling him it the back of his throat – feeling himself gag and forcing his lungs to take deep breaths through the nose instead of having a coughing fit. He took a minute to gather himself, throat working as he tried to gulp, tried to go pass his gag reflex. He wanted it, wanted to feel him down his throat, to feel raw and scraped, to hear his voice scratchy and torn, but his body protested – too long, too long, it’s been too long since we last tried that, it seemed to tell.

Somewhere above him, Wade let out a pathetic whine, hips trying to buck up but held down firmly by Peter’s super-strength – and he’d already known that Wade had a strength kink but the loud, unabashed moan he made then was the unneeded but very welcome proof. Now, a litany of profanity was falling from Wade’s lips, at such a pace that Peter couldn’t even understand half of it. His name was interspersed through it, though, and he _really_ liked how it sounded in Wade’s mouth, said like that.

Still, he pulled off, gasping for air and breathing hotly against Wade’s trembling thigh, his fingers gliding up and down his shaft smoothly now, slick with both precum and spit. He would have loved to be able to take all of it in, but he couldn’t, and since throwing up was generally bad practice when having sex, he wouldn’t push his luck too far – especially considering Wade’s self-depreciating tendencies and his abysmal self-image. Slowly, he crawled up and looked at Wade, his hips just shy of brushing against his, torture for both of them – delightful torture, but torture still.

The merc had a dazed look about him, his eyes unfocused and hazy, panting heavily and no longer cursing but simply gasping for breath. Gently, Peter cradled his cheek in his hand and looked into those lovely blue eyes before he moved down to kiss him. Wade answered his kiss slowly, too out of it to really understand what the fuck he was doing. Ultimately though, he snapped out of it, his tongue pulling back from its passivity and meeting Peter’s with a revenge, teeth clashing and – Peter was pretty sure Wade had just lost a tooth, or at least part of one. That only made the man groan and chuckle, like it was a normal occurrence.

“Untie me so I can grab your ass the way it deserves to be”, Wade whispered against his lips, surprisingly coherent.

Peter patted him down until he came upon a blade and unsheathed it, swiftly slashing through the webbing and casually embedding the knife in the wooden floor. Or maybe not so casually, he realized when the hilt hit the wood, no doubt piercing on the other side, and Wade laughed before he hauled him up, just as he’d said he would. Big, rough, callused fingers dug into the meat of his ass, kneading, spreading, like he was made of clay and not of flesh, and he revelled in the feeling. He went to take off his sweatpants and accidentally ripped them off, looking at Wade sheepishly, but the merc seemed to be unfazed.

A second later, he was on his back with Wade looming over him, their cocks aligned and almost immediately held in Wade’s tight grip, his glove forgotten on the ground. Peter crossed his ankles above the small of his back and threw his head back as Wade started to pump them in tandem, and he was so close and Wade felt so good, he wanted- He wanted-

“Ah- There, Wade, just like that”, he moaned, scrabbling at Wade’s forearms, his fingernails digging into the leathered Kevlar fabric to find some purchase.

He moved up, resting his forehead against Wade’s, thrusted his hips into his grip, and spilled with a shout, sending Wade tumbling after him in a repressed groan. Wade drew out their orgasms and released his grip, instead fitting his palms to Peter’s and pressing their hands against the ground, weighing over him without crushing him.

“You know”, Peter breathed, “if there weren’t people after my life, I’d propose we spend tomorrow in bed. Skin to skin, naked and warm. Fucking like our lives depend on it.”  
“You mean, like we just did?” Wade chuckled.  
“More”, Peter replied. “ _More_. I want to lift you up, all your weight either on my arms or on the shower wall as I fuck into you and the miraculously always warm water tries to beat us unconscious. I want to watch you lose yourself to the pleasure and have nothing but my name on your lips.”

Against him, Wade shivered. Slowly, he pulled away and collapsed next to him. There was a long silence, one Wade broke with a hysterical laughter.

“Oh, man, I’m _so_ fucked”, the merc said, and Peter smiled.

He would probably regret fucking on the floor by tomorrow morning when his joints would protest, but as things were at the moment, he couldn’t care less. His body was loose and relaxed, he was warm and Wade was next to him, just as pleased. That was all he needed.


	39. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wade finally talks about Va- about _her_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roller-coaster of emotions?  
> Roller-coaster of emotions.

~~ WADE ~~

{That was- Wow.}  
[…]  
{White? Wade? Anyone home?}  
[…]  
_…_  
{So it _is_ possible to be fucked brainless.}  
_I’m in love. That’s it. I’m in love with the most awesome man on Earth, who happens to be Spider-Man, who is not disgusted by our chewed avocado face and fucks like a god._  
[We’re doomed.]

Hysterical laughter spilled out, and it was not only him, but White and Yellow too, the three of them having a fucking nervous breakdown together because _that was not possible-_

“Oh, man, I’m _so_ fucked.”

There was a silence, and Peter rolled over and laid his chin on his chest to peer at him, which was probably a horrendous idea. Except Peter’s brown eyes were soft and gentle, not pitying but compassionate and fascinated, as if Wade needed another proof that the guy was _fucking perfect_.

“My knee and my back are killing me”, Peter muttered. “And a shower wouldn’t be amiss.”

Slowly, Wade carded his fingers through a mop of brown hair, and Peter’s eyes fluttered close. He was relaxed and beautiful, even sprawled on the floor of Wade’s apartment, both their releases smeared onto their abdomens. Not a care in the world, and that was change from the perpetual frown Peter seemed to have. The tacos were still waiting, through probably not warm anymore – not that that would stop them from eating. Slowly, they sat up, leaning against the seat of the couch, and Peter shot a web for the tacos, handing one to Wade and taking the other.

Yup, cold. Not a deterrent. Never one.

{Do you think… I doubt it, but do you think he did that with MJ? Eating on the floor after a passionate bout?}  
[Doesn’t strike me as MJ’s type], White mused. [He’s a disaster, she’s not. She would probably object eating like this. On the floor, pussy out.]  
{Just because we can’t be bothered to tuck our dong back in doesn’t mean we’re crass!}  
[ _We’re_ crass. And Peter is pant-less.]  
{It’s a good look on him. I’d keep him like that all the time.}

“I like your ex”, Wade declared, and Peter nearly choked on his bite.  
“Uh. That’s cool. Weird topic, though.”  
“What, because you just proposed a sex-athon?”

Peter’s features contorted into a complicated expression, one that was highly entertaining but not nearly enough to worry Wade. Peter might not be over MJ yet, but she was clearly done, and that would certainly help the matters.

“We talked”, Peter said after a moment. “We hadn’t since the divorce was filed. Not that it would have helped then, mind you. But we finally talked and. I don’t know. It’s good to have my best friend back. But it’s also a bit scary because it feels like we’re better friends than we were a couple. And I don’t know yet how I feel about that.”

So, the logorrhoea was unexpected. But it was nice to know Wade had correctly judged the situation. He nodded slowly.

“Well”, Wade answered. “I’d say it’s a good thing. Your spouse being your best friend. That’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s what it was like for me.”

Peter’s head whipped around, and Wade tried hard not to cringe or mind it. It was only fair that Peter knew, after all he’d met MJ and- Well. Maybe it was high time he got over himself and tried to build something else. Something new. That’s what Van- That’s what _she_ would have wanted, anyway. She’d loved him too much to want him to be miserable and lonely.

[Which we were. Before Peter.]  
{The most miserable flesh-bag there ever was}, Yellow concurred cheerily.

“You know”, he said with a snort, “now that I think about it, she was a lot like MJ. They would have been best friends and we’d be very sorry they ever met.”  
“Is she-”  
“Dead. She’s been dead for years now. The fucking love of my life, and I had nothing but a few measly years with her.” He let out a surprisingly wet chuckle. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have talked about that.”  
“Don’t you want to?” Peter said slowly, warily.  
“No. _Yes_. I don’t know. I haven’t- I can’t even say her name in my head, Pete. I don’t know if I can talk about her without bawling like a little kid or needing to shoot someone.”

Under normal circumstances, he would never have said that. But he was still high with endorphins, and Peter was the only one since _her_ who’d never balked at the sight of his face. He also knew Peter was the most likely to understand his feelings. How _deeply_ he’d loved her.

“Well”, Peter drawled. “If you need to cry, I’m here, and if you need to shoot someone, there’s a flurry of gangs to be stopped. I doubt you’ll ever have better circumstances.”

That was all he needed. Taking a deep breath, he dove right in.

“She was like the other half of me. Not like I’d been missing something – mind you, I probably am – but like she fitted perfectly and together we were something better. Something great. She was the only one who could look at me and not see a monster. And I’m not talking about my competition winning physique alone, but the whole baggage. She didn’t care how broken or dysfunctional I was, even after Weapon X. She just- She loved me, like I was actually something good in her life. And the only thing it got her is getting killed.”

This time, Peter flinched, and Wade gulped back bile. Their story wasn’t a rom-com, it was a fucking tragicomedy. Make it sad, with an all-encompassing love story, lots of sex, banter and ridiculous situations… and then kill the girl. Fridge her, whatever. Wade had never liked this story anyway. He would write fix-it fics, but none could actually do something for the gaping hole in his chest. There was nothing to be fixed about it – she was dead, and he was not, and he would never be. He was a Romeo without his Juliet, and it was a wonder he hadn’t gone all Darth Vader on the world who took his very own Padmé. Not that _she_ had been anything like Padmé or Juliet. She was no royalty – or if she was, the only thing she’d ruled over was his heart.

“I’m sorry”, Peter whispered. “I’m sure she was great, and I would have loved to meet her.”

Wade snorted.

“She would have kicked your ass, Spider-Man or not.”  
“I seem to be quite fond of women who don’t hesitate to kick my ass”, Peter pointed out wryly.

Wade smiled. It was painful to talk about her, to think about her, even after all this time, but somehow he felt… lighter.

“I don’t regret it”, he blurted out, and Peter looked at him curiously. “The time I had with her. I would have liked it to be more, to _have_ more, but I least I got to have her. To know her and love her. I can’t regret that.”  
“You know”, Peter said, “I can’t regret my time with MJ either. Even though it hurt like hell to have it end. I mean, the happiness we had was worth it. Loving her was worth it.”  
“It’s not losing them that’s the worst”, Wade whispered. “It’s to keep on living without them. A bit like that song, you know the one”, he said as he started to hum lightly.  
“It's easy to say but it's never the same / I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape”, Peter sung softly, following his tune, his hand gripping Wade’s tightly.  
“Now the day bleeds / Into nightfall / And you're not here / To get me through it all”, Wade resumed, the lyrics finally coming back to his mind, and he managed a wobbly smile at Peter as they both went on with the chorus.  
“I let my guard down / And then you pulled the rug / I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved…”

He could only throw his arm over his eyes when the tears started to fall, his sobs silent and yet wracking his whole frame. Moments like this made him wonder if he would ever be done grieving Vane- grieving for _her_ , but something in him told him it was a vain hope. She would always be a part of him. He felt Peter’s arms wrap around him and pull him into a twisted, awkward hug that would no doubt hurt his back and shoulders, but the warmth and firmness of his body was all he needed to get through the storm.

Once his sobs had turned to shivers, and then disappeared completely, Peter pulled away and got the both of them up on their feet, leading the way to the dingy bathroom and surely taking off what remained of his clothes, unclasping all the different parts of Wade’s suit as he went. And Wade found he didn’t mind so much – maybe he was tired enough that he didn’t have the strength to protest anymore. More likely, he was trusting Peter with way more than he thought possible.

{You can’t hurry love / No, you’ll just have to wait}, Yellow started to sing, the music way too upbeat for the way he felt.  
[SHE SAID, "LOVE DON'T COME EASY / IT'S A GAME OF GIVE AND TAKE"], White bellowed in answer, and this time Wade couldn’t help his wince and chuckle.

“You can't hurry love / No, you'll just have to wait / Just trust in a good time / No matter how long it takes”, he answered out-loud, and Peter quirked an eyebrow at him, before he silenced him with a kiss and turned on the shower.

Water poured down and Peter tugged him closer, and Wade loved the heavy feel of his hands on his hips, warm and secure, slightly rough and holding on securely. Peter kissed him again, standing on tip-toes, and grinned.

“I used to think maybe you loved me now baby I'm sure / And I just can't wait till the day when you knock on my door / Now every time I go for the mailbox, gotta hold myself down / 'Cause I just can't wait 'til you write me you're coming around”, Peter sang, his voice warm and low, and Wade shivered under his gaze and his hands.

“I'M WALKING ON SUNSHINE”, Wade belted out in answer, and this time Peter chuckled, pressing closer as they improvised another duet under the shower.

{[And don’t it feel good!]}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs are:  
> \- Someone You Loved  
> \- You Can't Hurry Love  
> \- Walking On Sunshine


	40. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how in movies the protag always manage to kiss at the worst time ever and you're like "that' _really not the time_?"  
> Yeah it be like that sometimes. Wade sure is that kind of person.  
> Peter? Peter is the fool who follows him.

~~ PETER ~~

By the time they made it out of the shower, Peter’s skin was a wrinkly mess, he still had the taste of soap in his mouth, and somehow he was holding a rubber duck that had no business being there. He also had a fair number of new bruises on his back where he’d slammed into the wall, for which he wasn’t sorry for in spite of Wade’s frantic worry. He stole a t-shirt from Wade – bright pink and sporting a unicorn print – and they stumbled to the bedroom, collapsing on the lumpy mattress together. Wade had slipped into sleep clothes but hadn’t bothered with socks, gloves or a mask when Peter was so eager to see him and meet his eyes as they laid side by side.

“How is your knee?”  
“…Probably worse than it was”, Peter admitted sheepishly. “No regret, though.”

Wade sighed and got out of bed, only to come back with a glass of water, a painkiller and something to reduce the swell of the joint, which Peter took gratefully. Once the man was back in their shared bed, Peter slung a leg over his hips and settled down to sleep, Wade laying still at first, before his hand landed on the back of Peter’s thigh and he started to gently rub against the sensitive skin.

“As nice as it feels”, Peter mumbled against his shoulder, “I’m afraid I’m too tired to get anything more than a chubby. I’m too old for that.”  
“Nah, you’re just out of practice”, Wade answered ruffling his hair. “Don’t worry, we’ll work to get your stamina back up.”

Peter snorted and, not long after, was fast asleep. He woke up naked and sprawled over the mattress, like a starfish, which had always driven MJ crazy. He was also trapped under something massive he eventually identified as Wade, who slept curled over his back, his nose buried between Peter’s shoulder-blades. The little clock on the side told him it was seven and a half in the morning, and he hadn’t woken up this early in a while. Yet, he felt refreshed and fine, the pain in his knee dulled to a barely noticeable throb that spoke well of his recovery.

“If you don’t stop squirming”, Wade breathed against his skin, “I’m going to unsheathe my katana against your spidey-”  
“Dare to finish that sentence and you won’t be getting any”, Peter growled, and Wade fell silent but he felt him smirk against his back and roll his hips down, making him know that it wasn’t just an empty threat. Peter shuddered at the feeling, his brain asking for more time to wake up, his body already up to the task.  
“Waking up with you in my bed is like, top-five fantasy coming true”, Wade replied, pressing kisses to his skin. “Lay down, baby, and let Daddypool do all the work.”

Peter couldn’t stop the whimper in his throat when Wade’s teeth caught slightly on stretched skin, his lips leaving a wet, warm trail down his spine, and he relaxed into the feeling, wriggling his hips in the vain hope that his cock would just stop dragging against the mattress. The kisses seemed to melt into his skin, covering his whole back and whatever exposed skin it could catch, nibbling at sensitive skin and leaving dark bruises on his neck and shoulders. He was drifting back into sleep when he felt battle-hardened, warm hands splaying on his ass and parting his cheeks, pulling him out of his sleepy, pleasured haze, and he straightened with a yelp when those madness inducing kisses pressed against his taint and then, wetter, against his hole.

“Wade what the _fuck_ -”  
“Breakfast, darling”, Wade drawled seductively, gripping his hips tight enough that he couldn’t crawl out without tapping into his super strength.  
“Oh fuck”, he breathed, burying his face in the pillow under him as the kisses turned hotter, wetter, making him shiver and tremble. A whine broke out of his mouth and he bit down into the pillow.  
“You’re trembling so much, boo”, Wade whispered against his skin. “Let go. I want to hear your voice.”  
“Your neighbours- _OhmygodWade!_ ”, he cried out as a tongue delved into him slick and warm, setting his nerves on fire before pulling away as he panted harshly. “I doubt your neighbours will agree”, he finished urgently, pleading, unsure whether he wanted more or begged for mercy.  
“Fuck them”, Wade growled, “I want to hear you.”

Peter curled his fists into the sheets, breathing deeply as he tried to let go of the pillow between his teeth. Wade resumed his assault, coaxing him to part his legs wider with wide strokes of his tongue, making him lift his hips higher with a soft, gentle drilling into him that made him long for something more and yet already drove him crazy. He wasn’t sure he could come just like this, but it sure seemed as though Wade was willing to try.

He had no idea how long Wade went at it, his vision hazy as his head swam with pleasure, body pinned down by the weight of Wade’s command to stay still and enjoy himself, but his climax was here suddenly and without any warning, when two of Wade’s wide fingers thrust deep into him and crooked _exactly_ onto his prostate. He nearly bit his own tongue off at the shock of it, body seizing with pleasure, his gasp turning into a crying sob, wordless and yet conveying its meaning perfectly.

He was barely recovering when Wade cheered, pleased with himself, and he snorted a laugh into the mattress. Trust Wade to do something like that. He felt a bit too limp for anything rowdy, the fight quite literally fucked out of him before he could even call it forward, but he still managed to flip on his back and catch Wade’s waist between his feet, dragging him forward. The merc was flushed and panting lightly, grinning so wide it had to hurt, but his expression shifted to one of wordless pleasure when Peter wrapped his hand around his shaft once he’d had him settled on his stomach.

“Mmh- Pete, _fuck_ , sweetheart, I won’t last long-”  
“Can’t you, precious?” Peter replied with a wicked grin, and Wade shivered, weighing heavily on him – the only reason Peter wasn’t crushed into the mattress was his spider characteristics. “That was quite the wake up call, Wade.”  
“You- _Ah_ You come undone so beautifully-y _PETER_ ”, Wade called, his whole body tensing as he came, painting Peter’s chest white. “ _Fuck_.”

Peter was about to say something when three loud bangs echoed in the room, coming from above.

“CAN YOU _PLEASE_ KEEP IT QUIET GODDAMMIT!”

Peter snorted, blushing from the embarrassment.

“Told your neighbours wouldn’t like it”, he drawled, poking at Wade’s side, who squirmed at the touch.  
“This neighbourhood _sucks_ , and not like you, not the good kind.”

Peter’s eyebrows went up and he smirked, his hands gently sliding up Wade’s sides, mapping out scars and slowly learning another’s body. Wade bent down for a kiss, and Peter pressed a finger against his lips.  
“No.”  
“No?”  
“Not before you’ve brushed your teeth. I might be a slob but I still have _standards_.”  
“Is it because of morning breath?” Wade mumbled, frowning.  
“Do I look like someone who cares about morning breath? It’s because of the damn good rim job, Wade.”  
“Prissy fucker”, Wade mumbled as he slunk out of bed and went to the bathroom, leaving Peter to lay in the warm bed and consider the mess that was his life.

His life had always been a mess, mind, this was just a different kind of mess than what he was used to. He glanced at the rapidly cooling mess on his torso and sighed, throwing the sheets back to get out of bed and sliding into the bathroom, where Wade was dutifully brushing his teeth. And flossing, which could explain the million watts smile of the man. With Wade otherwise occupied and his body still loose from his earlier orgasm, his shower was quick and efficient, and he pecked Wade’s cheek on his way out. He dressed quickly, pulling clothes out of the bag Wade has brought back, and got started on breakfast while Wade got ready.

He was finishing scrambling the eggs and sliding the sizzling bacon onto plates when Wade joined him in the kitchen. Clad in his suit. It shouldn’t have surprised him, given what was happening in town, but it was distressingly bursting the bubble they had created form themselves, where nothing but them existed. Good food, good sex, good naps and good banter. For a second, he hated the outside world for taking that from him.

“We need to get going soon”, Wade said once they were done eating. “This place isn’t exactly safe, Craig’s goons and rivals won’t take long to figure it out… much as I dislike allowing them any form of intelligence.”  
“Better safe than sorry”, Peter replied, shrugging. “What’s the plan? _Is there_ a plan, or do I need to come up with one myself?”  
“They’re after Peter Parker, not Spider-Man”, Wade started, putting the dishes in the sink. “And they know that I have a personal interest in you. Peter. By now, they must know I’ve taken your ex-wife and you to safety. MJ is actually safe, but if you weren’t Spidey, you wouldn’t be. So I’ll be moving you to another safe-house. You’ll go there first, as Spidey, and I’ll drop by later. Then we’ll go gather intel and, if things go right for once, we’ll put an end to this turf war.”  
“That’s not a plan. That’s like, twelve percent of a plan”, Peter deadpanned, drying the dishes as Wade washed them.  
“Well it’s better than nothing at all! I expect you’ll be able to go back to work soon. I like watching work that bubble butt of yours behind the bar.”  
“Pervert”, Peter replied with a smile. “Go gather your things, I’ll handle this.”

Wade nodded and disappeared, and while Peter finished putting things back in order, he heard him moving things around way too loudly for an early morning. The neighbours had to hate him. Eventually though, the merc had dismantled their rope plan and stashed it neatly in a box, which Peter would take with him to their new safe-house. Wade gave him an address and a key, and once Peter had his suit on, he leapt out the window and was off, the box under his arm.


	41. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely too domestic for Wade, but he can't sulk or anything because, well, _he did ask for it_. It's not his fault Peter is an oblivious idiot stealing away with his heart.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade sneaked into the house and almost found himself webbed to the door. Okay, he hadn’t told Peter _not_ to booby-trap the house, because he hadn’t expected the guy to do so.

[He’s starting to become like you. That’s worrying.]  
{I’m pretty sure Peter has always been a little shit. This is nothing new, you just dropped your guard once you were inside.}

“Well hello to you too, lover”, Wade greeted the man when he dropped from the ceiling with a sigh.  
“You’re impossible, Wade”, Peter replied, but there was a fondness in his voice. “Let’s get settled down.” He grabbed one of the bags Wade carried and started to go upstairs. “Did you choose this house on purpose?”  
“You like it?”  
“… I do”, Peter said after a moment. “It reminds me a lot of Aunt May and Uncle Ben’s house. It was just a few houses down the street, with the same layout.”  
“I figured you’d feel more comfortable in a place somewhat familiar”, Wade admitted. “I rarely come down here, to be honest. It’s a bit too big for just one man, and the neighbourhood is too nice. I’d attract attention.”  
“Wait”, Peter said, pausing at the top of the stairs and turning to face him, “is assuming a false identity part of your plan?”  
“Well it _would_ make things easier. I could be Johnny Silvini, the accountant who just moved in with his husband of three years, Peter Silvini. You’re an exotic dancer, of course. That’s the only way that ass can be explained.”

Peter rose an eyebrow and snorted.

“Alright, husband. That backstory is weird enough that people would believe it.”

Wade’s jaw nearly fell.

“ _Wait_ , you’d actually go with that?!”

Peter shrugged.

“It’s as good a backstory as any, and I found a box of costumes amongst which several wigs. I’m pretty sure I can look the part of the exotic-dancer who’s nothing more than a trophy husband.”

{*nosebleed*}  
 _Holy SHIT._

“Of course I’ll have to dance at Sissy Margaret’s”, Peter resumed. “After all, our neighbours would surely love to see my show.”  
“You’re the worst”, Wade concluded, walking past him and into the master bedroom.

The bed was already made with fresh sheets, reminding Wade that usually, he kept this house for when he had people to hide who would like an approximately normal house. While Peter unpacked, he peered into the second bedroom and found the mattress naked, and almost cheered. So, Peter intended for them to share a bed.

“You’re pretty committed to that married couple story”, he said instead, and decided to make the spare room their HQ.

He put their mind-map on the wall after pulling the curtains closed, and helped Peter set up his lab on the desk in the corner. The domesticity of it all was… well. If he had been in love before, now he was definitely done for.

“What, you’d rather we room apart and let the neighbours think there’s something wrong going on with our love life?”  
“NO no, absolutely not!” Wade replied hurriedly. “I want them to see us being disgustingly in love. All rainbows and cupcakes.”

Peter grinned and Wade felt his heart melt in his chest.

“Good. I don’t think I could’ve pulled it off otherwise.”

{Did he just-}  
[OH MY GOD DID HE JUST CONFESS IN A ROUNDABOUT WAY?!]  
 _Shut up no he didn’t, that’s not what it was! Stop taking our desires for reality!_

“Wade, did you intend for us to live on instant noodles?” Peter called from downstairs, in the kitchen, and when had he gotten there? “There’s literally no other food in the house. I’ll make a run at the store for some supplies.”  
“In your Spidey costume?”  
“Even Spider-Man needs to buy groceries”, Peter sniffed haughtily. “Relax, I’ve done this before.”  
“That’s not exactly reassuring, you know. Alright, I’ll start gathering intel, then. Meet you back here?”  
“For dinner, then”, Peter replied. “I have a few sources I need to check and they’re unlikely to talk if there’s someone with me.”

Wade could understand that. He had a few contacts like this too. He got back an hour before dinner, having withstood fewer wounds than expected from his snooping around the different gangs fighting for Craig’s power. Weasel had been right: Craig’s power hadn’t been what is once was. The power vacuum left wasn’t as huge as he’d feared – however, there was an unofficial bounty on Peter’s head, and he didn’t like that. Few people would dare to attack someone who was notorious for both his connection to Spider-Man and his fling with Deadpool.

“What the _fuck_ happened to you?!” he screeched, dropping his guns in shock when he stepped into the kitchen and found Peter finishing to set the table.

The spider had somehow turned the scruff that had been growing on his jaw into a quite neatly trimmed beard, and apparently committed to his “happily married husband” backstory. He wore a wig Wade recognized as one of his own, with slick blond curls, and sported dark blue eyes heavily lined with khôl, his face contoured in a way that changed everything about his bone structure – all in all, he didn’t look like himself at all. It was a nice disguise, sure, but also a way to give a man a heart attack.

“What, you don’t recognize your own husband?” Peter replied cheekily. “I want to be able to go out and about without being Spidey or fearing for my life. Is it good enough?”  
“Fuck you, Peter. Yeah, it’s good. You look nothing like yourself.” He jerked his chin up. “How did you do the whole make-up thing?”

Peter pinched his lips.

“Had to learn when I became Spidey, because Aunt May was getting overly worried when I came back home sporting the most impressive canvas of bruises one time too many. And after that, for work. People wonder, when they see you all beat-up, and, well. We figured it wouldn’t do for MJ’s reputation if someone thought she was hitting her husband.”  
“I almost regret asking, you know.”

How many times had Peter been a patchwork of black and blue that he felt the need to learn such a thing? It was a neat trick, that Wade had picked up for much of the same reason, but hadn’t needed since Project X. First because he barely bruised anymore – it was just gone _that_ fast – and second because the chemicals of make-up disagreed with his skin. Badly.

Shaking himself, he stepped closer to inspect the disguise in detail. It was perfect, and the shift in Peter’s behaviour suggested he knew there was more to a disguise than just appearance.

“You don’t need to keep the make-up on, do you?” he whispered.  
“No, I have to take it off to go to Sissy Margaret’s anyway”, Peter replied. “If the men find out we can shapeshift, they’re going to tell the church.”

Wade snorted, hooking a finger under Peter’s chin.

“Good. I _love_ smudging make-up.”

Peter’s reply was a garbled mess choked by his chuckle as Wade bore down and kissed him, relaxing into the familiarity of that welcoming mouth. Peter going back to work was risky, but Wade was confident they could settle the matter quickly enough. Also, Peter wasn’t actually defenceless and could hold his own if it came down to a fight.

“C’mon”, Peter whispered against his lips, “I need to eat and clean-up that mess on my face before going to work. You can mess me up some more later.”

[ _Way_ too domestic.]  
{I do like that proposition, though.}  
 _And down the rabbit hole we go._


	42. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter finally goes back to Sissy Margaret's and it's...  
> Not Good.

~~ PETER ~~

Peter had left the house burrowing deeply into one of Wade’s sweatshirt, the hood pulled down to hide his face, his suit under his clothes. Baggy clothes hid his silhouette and it was bit sad because he loved the way Wade looked at him when he was in tight skinny jeans and clingy shirts, but… well, he’d rather not die. Wade had also insisted he wore a bullet-proof vest under the sweatshirt – partially because he was genuinely worried, but mostly because that’s what Deadpool would do when confronted with someone he ought to protect but who refused to stay inside.

“Hello Weas’”, Peter dropped as he put his lunch in the fridge – he would eat it in the middle of the night, of course, but it was still lunch – and Weasel…

Well, Weasel dropped the glass he’d been holding in shock, and only Peter’s reflexes stopped it from shattering on the ground.

“Wh- What are you _doing_ here?!” the bartender hissed, grabbing his arms and shaking him. “I knew there was something wrong in your head, but I didn’t think you had a death wish!”  
“I don’t”, Peter replied with a snort. “Thanks for the save, by the way.”  
“Relax, Weasel”, Wade drawled as he leaned on the bar. “He’s with me.”

Peter’s eyes dropped to the ground, where… Where Craig-

“OW! What was that for?!” he cried out, rubbing the back of his head where Wade had just slapped him.  
“NO getting guilty over this asshole. I had a nice long chat with MJ on the way back home, when I dropped some groceries for her, and this was not your fault.”

Peter glared at him and turned his back to him, ostentatiously getting to work and ignoring the irritating merc. He had all the right in the world to feel guilty, thank you very much. He was more surprised by encouragements he got from other patrons over the course of the night, telling him how glad they were that he was already back on his feet, and how much they despised Craig, and how he’d had it coming anyway. He’d almost always been friendly and had broken a few fights when needed, but the sheer protectiveness coming from the hardened mercs was… puzzling.

“Is it because they think of me as Deadpool’s boyfriend that they’re being all… like this?” he whispered to Weasel when the man reappeared from a deal or another.

Weasel snorted.

“No. It might surprise you but most of us genuinely like you, Parker. I’m good at my job, but when it comes to listening to people and make small talk, I’m trash. You, on the other hand, are good at _this_. They want to protect you like you might feel the urge to protect a sodden, abandoned kitten.”  
“…Are you telling me I’m some kind of mascot?” Peter replied, eyeing him carefully.  
“Exactly”, Weasel said with a large grin, clapping his arm.

Disgruntled, Peter shot a look at Wade through the room, but Wade was busy talking with a few others, all his attention on them and what appeared to be intense dealings. His spider-sense was on high-alert, both from the very real threat of the gang war and Craig’s goons, and from being back there for the first time since-

“Deep breaths”, Wade said, his large, warm hands on his shoulders. “C’mon, Petey, do like me. Inhale, hold your breath, one, two, three, exhale. That’s it. That’s it, you’re doing good. You back with me, sweetums?”

Peter blinked, his hands clammy, back drenched, mind hazy and heart slowing down from a maddened pace. He blinked again, focusing on Wade, who was standing very close, and he could see nothing but him – or, well, his mask. He could see the stretch of the fabric and the exact weaving pattern, and the foggy whiteness of his lenses.

“What the fuck just happened”, he blurted out – or rather, rasped out, his throat parched and tongue heavy, sticking to the roof of his mouth.  
“You had a panic attack”, Wade replied, pulling away slightly. “I was kinda expecting it, to be honest. Here, drink a bit.”  
“Where are we?” Peter asked after he’d down the glass of fresh water Wade had handed him.  
“In the back room. I could tell your senses were overwhelmed, given how you flinched when I barely brushed you. How do you feel?”  
“Awful”, Peter replied honestly, licking his lips and trying to reconnect with all the input of information his body gave him. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Thank you, Wade.”  
“It’s not fine. You’re not fine, Petey. So I’m taking you home, drawing you a bath, and you don’t get to protest.”  
“But-”  
“What did I just say about protesting?”  
“That I don’t get to”, Peter grumbled, but the truth was, his limbs felt like lead and he was still shuddering.

He wanted fresh air, he wanted _out_ , and Wade seemed to know it. He was almost done for the night anyway. Slowly, he nodded, and they got out, Wade’s arm draped over his shoulders as he guided him through Sissy Margaret’s and onto the street. It was a long walk back home, even using public transport, and Peter was grateful for it. You couldn’t call the night air “fresh” but it was as good as it got in a city like New-York. They stumbled through the door, and Wade immediately started to draw a bath in the upstairs bathroom.

It was a quite large tub, and Peter pulled his clothes off, dumping them onto the ground and hoping the hot water would make him feel better. Wade had put a bath bomb in, and so the water was bubbling a pastel pink that smelled of lilac. Slowly, Peter stepped into the tub and lowered himself into the almost too hot water, resting his head against the rim and closing his eyes.

So many things had been happening at the same time, he felt like his brain was frying just trying to keep up with the current events, his growing, complicated feelings for Wade not being the least of them. It was one thing to have sex with someone, but this… whatever it was there was between them, it was far more than just being sex-friends. There was a depth to his feelings, an _otherness_ that spoke of something else.

He let out a sigh when Wade poured water over his head and gently started to wash his hair, strong fingers massaging his scalp and slowly drawing the tension out. By the time Wade washed the conditioner out, Peter was very nearly sleeping in the cooling water. The last few days had been harrowing, and his panic attack had completely drained him.

“You’re too nice, Wade”, Peter slurred as the man helped him out of the bathtub and wrapped him up in a giant towel, patting his body to dry him instead of rubbing.  
“Never for you”, Wade chuckled softly, lifting him up in a bridal carry with a groan. “Fuck, I always forget how _heavy_ you are. You don’t look your weight.”  
“That’s packed muscles, baby”, Peter replied. “All compact, travel sized. Of course it’s heavy.”

Wade snorted and nuzzled at his head.

“You want clothes? To sleep?”  
“Nngh no”, Peter mumbled. “Just come to bed with me.”  
“I’m all gross and smelly.”  
“Like I care. Come”, Peter insisted, tugging him down into the bed beside him, using more strength than he wanted and sending Wade into the sheets with a “oof” as he collapsed. “Better”, he sighed, crawling over him and promptly falling asleep, his limbs curled around the man to hold him close.


	43. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade would like to get laid but the universe apparently thinks otherwise.
> 
> The universe, and his own goddamn mouth. Peter is right, why would he say _that_?

So, this was Wade’s life now. He wouldn’t complain about having Peter sprawled over him and asleep, but… He really needed a shower. Like, it was very cute of the guy, sure, but he still needed a shower.

[Are you gonna wait like that long?]  
{If you wake him up, I’ll kill you.}  
 _But I need that shower._  
{I’LL KILL YOU. LOOK AT HIM.}  
[So apparently, we’re gonna wait. Great.]  
 _What else would you want to do?! Have you_ seen _the guy?_  
{He’s so cute. Too precious. Move and I’ll have your balls.}  
[Your threats make no sense and are ridiculous. We all share the same body.]  
 _White has a point, you know._  
{Oh, I see. That’s how it is. The two of you leagued against poor old me. I am OFFENDED.}

Wade let out a long, drawn out sigh and slowly, carefully started to shift Peter aside onto the mattress so he could slip out of bed. It took him the better part of a half-hour, but he managed to do so without waking him up. He could take pride in the little things. He tucked the sheets around him so he would not be cold, alone in the large bed, and headed to the bathroom, chucking his suit as he went.

Now that they were home and Peter was safely sleeping in the room next door, he could feel the fear and anger stir once more. He’d known at once, of course, when he’d seen Peter white as a sheet and staring blankly into the void, his hands trembling and breath coming short. He’d seen and had enough panic attacks to know how to recognize one, and how to deal with one. It didn’t change the fact that it had been fucking terrifying to witness, and he couldn’t stop wondering what if Peter had one – or worst, a flashback – while out as Spider-Man?

He bit back a choked sob of terror, hot water pounding on his head, and tried to relax. Monday was two days away and he desperately wanted to see Ellie, but with how dangerous things were at the moment, he would only endanger her, and that was unacceptable.

On the other hand… Well, on the other hand, Christmas holidays were coming – was it already the end of the year? He hadn’t paid attention, hadn’t noticed, but time sure flew by – and he was temporarily living in a child-proofed house. No, there was at least a month to go before it was Christmas, maybe more – was it December or was his memory playing tricks on him again? He couldn’t fucking _remember_. Halloween had passed, he was sure of that. He just- couldn’t tell if it had been two weeks or six.

Either way, this business would surely be done with by the time Christmas rolled around – or at least, he hoped so – so Peter would be back to his dreadful, _dreadful_ apartment – {that’s not an apartment that’s a glorified closet disguising as an abandoned, post-apocalyptic storing-room!} – and Wade would be back to his and…

…And he didn’t want that.

Well, fuck. Way to make things more painful and complicated. As if he needed that. He let out a sigh.

[This is why we can’t have nice things.]  
 _Shut up. Just… For once, just shut up._

He should have known it was a bad idea to let himself be tempted to a domestic life with the guy he had fallen in love with, especially when he knew said guy was far from stable enough for a relationship. But he’d grown used to taking the things he wanted while he could have them, rather than wait and take the risk of never having them. Peter was Spider-Man and he was strong, but… He could lose him. At any given moment, he could lose him.

Sighing, he rested his forehead against the tiles of the wall, the cold striking against the heat of the water. He shrugged on a threadbare shirt and underwear, before sliding back into the bed. Peter mumbled and immediately latched onto him, and Wade could get used to this. He could so easily get used to this. Sleep escaped him but he had Peter in his arms and he could thread his fingers through his soft hair, which at the moment was enough to keep him calm.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because he woke up around noon, his head pillowed on Peter’s thigh instead of an actual pillow – one was between the headboard and Peter’s back, the other had somehow been flung across the room – warm, rested and comfortable. He shuffled slightly and Peter paused his fingers, which had been running soothingly on his arm and shoulder.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.”  
“You have the _worst_ sense of humour, I swear”, Wade mumbled, nuzzling the warm flesh in his reach.  
“How awake are you?” Peter asked, and Wade blinked.  
“I haven’t had coffee yet”, he finally answered. “Why?”  
“Because either I’m going paranoid, which wouldn’t be a surprise, or my ex-boss is sending me a coded message in plain sight. I’m leaning towards paranoid.”  
“That happens often?” Wade asked, shifting a little so he could look up and – yeah, he had Peter’s face and bare torso just in his line of sight, which was pretty much the best sight one could have in the morning.  
“ _Well_ , usually when I find a coded message, it was because someone actually tried to send me one. But if I’m not going mad, it would mean Jameson actually knows I’m Spider-Man and that’s… I don’t even want to _think_ about that.”  
“Now you got me interested. Show me”, Wade replied, making grabby hands at Peter’s phone. “…Peter, when an article is explicitly about you, it’s not a _code_. ‘Hollywood favourite child, Mary-Jane Watson, about her recent divorce’… that’s about you.”  
“ _That_ was obvious. And also a sure way of gaining my attention, if, you know, one wanted to pass me a message.”

Wade wasn’t sure whether to be amused or worried. The problem with very smart people was that, sometimes, they saw things where there was nothing. Mentally, he started to go through all the codes he knew. It couldn’t be one too complicated – nothing needing a key of some kind – so it meant the message had to be vague enough not to attract attention.

“Noooo”, he breathed in disbelief. “ ‘Spider-Man, I have important intel for you – JJJ’, that’s the message you saw?”  
“YES”, Peter replied, something a bit hysterical in his voice.  
“You took pics of the neighbourhood’s favorite arachnid for years”, Wade pointed out. “Talking about you when you’ve been fired is a sure way of attracting _Spider-Man_ ’s attention. Doesn’t mean he knows you’re both.”  
“…You don’t think I’m crazy?”  
“Peter, you’re a genius”, Wade deadpanned. “What are the probabilities of a new sentence appearing from reading the first word of each paragraph? I’m about sure they’re _not high_. I’m not worried about your sanity, but more by the timing. Asking for Spider-Man’s help when you have gone to ground with your ex-wife? Could be a coincidence, but… it’s fishy.”  
“And that’s also the least helpful message ever. Like, it doesn’t actually tell me anything. Do you think I should go?”  
“I think _someone_ should go”, Wade replied, sitting up and handing Peter his phone back. “I think _I’m_ going in your stead. I can walk-off a death-trap, not you.”  
“You’re so morbid early in the morning”, Peter grumbled, but Wade could tell he was uneasy about the whole thing. “Kiss me”, he added, tugging Wade down by the shirt – even sitting, he towered above the spider, which was frankly hilarious.

His kiss was slow and deep, and Wade felt himself melt against him, sliding and arm around his waist and gradually climbing over him to settle in his lap. Peter was still very much naked under the sheets, while Wade was partially clothed, and yet he felt like he was the one vulnerable at the moment. Peter’s fingers, sliding under his shirt and up his sides and his back, sent a shudder down his spine and he ground his hips down into Peter’s, letting him know.

“Fuck”, Peter whispered against his lips. “Why do you always get me so riled up so easily?”  
“Because I’m sexy as hell”, Wade grinned, nipping at his lower lip, “and you can’t resist such a hot bod. Also because I’m you’re newly wedded husband and if we don’t want the neighbours to think our wedding his a sham, we’ve got to make them _hear_ how much we love each other.”  
“We do _not_ need to do that”, Peter laughed, squeezing his hips and nuzzling his throat. “Can’t say I’m opposed to the thought, though. I’d love to hear you vocalize.”

Wade shivered all the way down to his toes and pulled back to look at Peter, whose pupils were blown and skin flush with arousal. Now _that_ was a sight he wanted printed in his mind. He lightly bit down on the lobe of Peter’s ear, who almost _seized_ under him – yep, good spot, would remember that – and whispered:

“Actually I’ve forgotten to take condoms _but_ ”, he accented the word with another bite to Peter’s collarbones, “if you sir are not too impatient, I’ll buy some on my way back home from Jameson’s and ride you into oblivion. How does that sound?”

Peter’s face did something complicated and for a second, Wade feared he had overstepped.

“Like you’ve just said the most arousing thing with the one most likely to kill a boner”, he replied once he regained enough control. “ _Why_ did you have to speak about Jameson _now?_ I really, _really_ don’t want to think about him when I have you almost naked in my lap, but I also really, _really_ want to fuck you.”

Wade burst out laughing and kissed his pout lightly, grinning as he pulled away. Peter chased after him, pushing him down and into the mattress, settling between his legs and lavishing his face and chest with kisses.

{It really does things to me when he gets all possessive and looming like that.}

Wade couldn’t disagree on that one. Not without lying, anyway, and his body very much wouldn’t let him lie.

“…Did you think to take lube?” Peter asked, pulling away.  
“There must be some in the bedside drawer.”

Peter frowned and shook his head.

“There was one, but it had _somehow_ spilt all over the drawer. Which was thankfully empty aside from this, by the way.”  
“…Well I’ll be buying some as well, I guess. Anything else?”

The bell rang, and Wade froze. Peter perked up.

“That would be the food. I’ve ordered us breakfast kebab.”

[I knew there was a reason we loved him.]

“I’ll get it”, Wade replied, rolling off the bed and willing his hard-on down as he slid into a hooded dressing gown he’d found the day before in a dresser and which he’d remembered buying because he could easily pass as Palpatine when he wore it.

He definitely looked forward to scaring the neighbours.


	44. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter isn't good at "staying home".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's quite ironic that I find myself writing Peter pacing circles while stuck home WHILE being stuck home myself. Uh.

~~ PETER ~~

MJ had always been adamant: no eating in bed. Peter more often skipped eating if he could get away with it, but he’d rarely eaten in bed nonetheless. Now, sitting naked in the warm bed with Wade curled up next to him and eating kebab for breakfast, he realized that he was only starting to live. There was something blissful about the gross domesticity that had settled between Wade and him, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care about it. Wade’s dressing gown was half-open, the sleeves rolled up where they tried to slide down over his hands, his feet tucked under Peter’s calves. He looked happy. It could have been just the food, but Peter had the feeling that, like it was for him, there was more to that than the simple pleasure of good food.

Breakfast out of the way, Wade slipped into his suit and Peter tugged him close by the straps over his chest to press a kiss to his lips before he pulled the mask down, covering his face. He could see Wade’s grin through the mask as the man slipped out of the house stealthily – he couldn’t well play his charade of being ‘accountant Johnny Silvini’ if the neighbours saw him going out in his Deadpool regalia. Peter cleared the remainders of breakfast, showered and dressed – or rather, wrapped in one of Wade’s hoodies as he had no intention whatsoever of going out – and looked at the bed, deciding belatedly that yes, he would make the bed. If only for the pleasure of messing it up when he tumbled into it later with Wade.

He wondered for a second what to do – he wasn’t used to being idle nor to having free time, and suddenly he found himself stuck home alone – before his gaze fell on the second bedroom. He knew Wade had installed their headquarters there, and he settled himself on the wall to observe the mind-map. He’d had little time to focus on their zombie problem lately, and could currently do absolutely nothing about their other problems. He had, however, access to several databases and lots of research to do.

Who would benefit from virus Z? A lot of fucked up people, he knew that much. Biological warfare might be against the Geneva convention, it didn’t seem to stop these people. Then again, he’d seen that more than once. That was what he did as Spider-Man – sure, most of the time he stopped small-time villains and kids going the wrong way, but once in a while there was one unhinged genius who decided for some reason to destroy all or a part of humanity. And then it was his job to stop them, no matter what.

His eyes fell on Flash’s pic on the wall. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his disappearance was more loosely linked to his case than the others. His military record was thoroughly censored – there was nothing to gain there. He looked at the other victims. Aside from Roman Berisha, they were all people with one weakness or another that had made them prey to the virus. He shuddered at the thought that he could have easily been one of them. He focused back on Roman. The head scientist was definitely linked very closely to their case – a victim too, yes, but not only. He was the one – or more likely, part of the team – who had developed virus Z. That he worked for a company named “Life Foundation” which focused on health and medication was very ironic indeed.

His death wasn’t an accident, that much was certain. When you worked with that kind of biological weapon, you were not _careless_. You couldn’t afford to be so. Which meant he had been killed. Killed, or executed – and the difference mattered. Was his death the work of some kind of vigilante, of someone seeking revenge for the death of a loved one, or an order from someone he’d worked for? Who knew what Roman worked on?

Shaking his head, Peter focused back on the “Life Foundation”. Virus Z was an off-the-record development, he was pretty sure of that. Even if government was involved, traces would be covered, which meant trails would be far and few, given the secrecy the project demanded. Swiftly, Peter added another picture with a name to the mind-map: Carlton Drake, twenty-seven, genius with several biological patent to his name, and head of “Life Foundation”. Whether he knew about Project BW-0S0T or not was the crux of the problem. No good person would let anyone in their charge develop such a thing, but Peter knew that with companies that big, there was a distinct possibility some other higher-up was covering the whole thing.

Carlton Drake had also been apprenticed to Victor Von Doom, who led Doom Industries, with which the Life Foundation had cooperated in the past for a space program. Peter added those details to the mind-map, and drew back to take in the whole map. They would have to check thoroughly whether the other victims had a link to the Life Foundation, or if they were simply unlucky enough to be picked as test subjects for the virus. He knew better than anyone that what might seem like a coincidence at first wasn’t necessarily one.

Sighing, he left himself fall back to the ground and exited the room before he went crazy staring at the map. He was fairly certain Wade would be mad at him if he allowed himself to get obsessed – MJ had, at least. Without a clear path to action, his brain tended to circle around an idea, picking at it like it would do any good. It wouldn’t, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself. And at the moment, his brain obsessed either over Wade, or over Virus Z – screw ‘BW-0S0T’, that was too much of a mouthful.

He came to a hard stop when he found himself in the living-room, staring at the huge clock on the wall. He couldn’t have spent nearly three hours in that room, could he? Blinking, he pulled his phone out of his pocket: 16:15. Yeah, he had spent three hours in there, oblivious to the world. Wade wasn’t back yet, but between his stop at the Bugle, shopping for their few missing supplies, and probably dropping by MJ at the safe-house to see how she was faring, he wasn’t surprised.

He was also hungry, and he had no doubt Wade, who had moved a fair lot more than him, would be too, so he set out to make them lunch. Opening the pantry, he took stock of what they had. He wasn’t much of a cook, but he could manage as long as he had a recipe. He was still dicing the vegetables when Wade came back, putting the bag he was holding by the door and coming straight to him – and actually stopping when he saw him.

“You look delicious, Peter.”

Peter turned to look at him and lifted an eyebrow.

“Do I now?”  
“If I wasn’t starving and buzzing with the need to tell you what old Jameson told me, I would definitely take a trip under that hoodie, yes.”

Peter sighed.

“You’ve done it again. I swear that’s like, the most efficient boner-killer ever.”

Wade chuckled.

“Sorry, boo, but you’ll want to hear this.”


	45. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the boner-killer.  
> [You really need to find a better nickname.]  
> {Yeah, this one sucks and not in a good way.}  
> ...
> 
> HERE COMES THE BONER-KILLER.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade knew he was both a great and terrible story-teller. Great, because people were fascinated when he talked and he got the best stories. Terrible, because he couldn’t for the life of him relate something in a logical fashion and went on tangents that lasted entirely too long and lost his public far before he’d reached the middle of whatever story he was telling. Still, he tried, because it was important, and he focused on his day.

His first stop had been at the store, to buy lube and condoms. He wasn’t sure they’d really _need_ the condoms – or at least not all the time, it was not like he could catch or carry anything – but he’d learned the hard way that when you’re having a quickie in between missions, the last thing you want is to have to clean up a mess or, god forbid, walk around with a mess between your legs. Condoms were good for that, and he was sure Peter and he both would appreciate the option. Not that they were _there_ yet, but…

…Well, Peter’s offer had been pretty explicit, hadn’t it? He was totally getting fucked tonight – or so he hoped. If he wasn’t, there would be a murder. ANYWAY, he’d taken some time choosing which box to take, and after that he’d had to find lube and… okay, he may have gone a bit over-board.

[A BIT?! You bought nearly one of every type available!]  
{Yeah dude, Peter will be able to make a damn smoothie with all the tastes you got}, Yellow added snidely.  
[I know you intend to have _lots_ of sex but I’m pretty sure you didn’t need that many options. You have a lifetime supply there.]  
 _Now you guys are being dramatic, I haven’t bought_ that much _lube!_

So yeah maybe the cashier had looked at him a bit weird, but that was so not his fault Peter was sexy as hell! He’d then gone to see Peter’s former boss, very intent on intimidating the man – and to do so, he’d settled himself in Jameson’s own chair and put his feet on the desk, waiting for the man to come back. Old J.J.J.’s face when he’d come in and seen him had been _priceless_.

“Hello. I believe you called for Spider-Man, yes?”  
“I’m 100% certain you are not, in fact, Spider-Man”, he’d said once he’d closed the door.  
“What makes you think we haven’t exchanged our suits?” Wade had asked, twirling a knife on the tip of his gloved finger.  
“ _Please_. I’ve been publishing articles about the bug-boy since he first started his terrorist act. You’re way too tall and too broad, and your voice is extremely wrong.”  
“You forgot the most incriminating detail”, Wade had declared, analysing Jameson, who reminded him uncomfortably of Weasel – way too smart behind his dumb looks.  
“Oh?” Jameson had asked, pouring himself something that had probably been tea. “And what would that be?”  
“The _butts don’t match_.”

To Wade’s immense surprise, Jameson had snorted into his tea and nearly choked himself laughing, which had been unexpected given the way Peter talked about the man who’d hired him when he was barely sixteen.

“I would guess you’re familiar enough with said butt to say that”, he’d answered once he’d calmed down, dropping into one of the chairs facing his desk. “I’m guessing the masked menace sent you for him, then?”  
“That’s right”, Wade had drawled, peering at him intently from behind the lenses of his mask. “So, what’s the intel?”  
“I know Spider-Man has been investigating the zombie cases with you”, Jameson had said, dropping all pretends. “There have been similar cases in San Francisco, you might want to look into that. Mostly, though”, he’d said, opening his jacket and taking something within the inner pocket, “you’ll want to contact this guy. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

Wade had made a disgusted noise when he’d seen the name – Eddie Brock, along with a motel room number and a phone number.

“His pics are trash”, he replied.  
“Don’t I know it”, Jameson had sighed, “but he’s the best at what he does, and he’s onto something big. Horrific murders, he didn’t give details, but he said the trail took him here. Not the zombies, something different, but he was a bit grey when he talked about it so I believe it wasn’t pretty. I believe Spider-Man and him can help each other.”  
“What’s in it for you?” Wade had nodded towards the man.  
“ _Please_ ”, he’d scorned, “I’m smart enough to know the rampaging Brock described isn’t something regular policemen will be able to handle, and it’s something that needs to be stopped. I trust Spider-Man to do that.”  
“You’re his biggest detractor”, Wade had pointed out.  
“Best cover ever. His so-called secret identity would have been busted years ago otherwise”, Jameson had replied, putting his empty cup on the desk. “Another would have fired him long before that just for all the times he was late.”  
“You know who he is”, Wade has asked, suspicious.

Jameson rolled his eyes.

“I may be an asshole, but I’m not _that much_ of an asshole, thank you. Yeah, I knew, what, two years in? He’s a bit oblivious at times. You might also want to tell him that a white shirt isn’t the best to cover a red and blue suit, it’s a bit _see-through_.”

Wade had dropped his feet from the desk to lean forward and stare at Jameson, who hadn’t backed down. Uh. Unexpected.

“Why fire him, then?”

Jameson had pulled a cigar from his pocket, tucked it between his teeth and lit it up.

“Because it was the best way to cover his tracks and protect him”, he finally answered. “I didn’t do it because I _wanted_ , he’s actually damn good at his job. I’d never tell him that, of course, but it’s obvious. Anyway, there’s been trouble lately.” He waved his hand. “Let’s just say it was necessary.” He snorted and shook his head. “Selling me his _selfies_ , seriously.”

Wade hadn’t been able to stop himself from smirking at that. Yeah, he found that pretty ridiculous too, but he _also_ beneficiated from some of Peter’s more _intimate_ selfies and he sure appreciated the quality. Definitely worth money, yes.

“You knew he would understand your coded message.”  
“He’s many things, but certainly not stupid. Oblivious, yes, stubborn to a fault, and even with years of experience, sometimes a little bit too naïve, but not stupid. There’s a reason I made sure he would always somehow _just happen_ to stumble on the most concerning investigation cases, you know. You don’t let that kind of brightness just rot.”  
“A businessman through and through, then”, Wade nodded.  
“You got it. Now, if we’re done talking about our resident Spider, you have the intel I wanted to transmit, and I have nothing else to say, so please kindly _scram_. I’m a busy man.”

Wade had scrammed, not because Jameson had asked but because he desperately wanted to go back to Peter, and also because that intel was actually important. He’d dropped by MJ’s safehouse to hand out fresh groceries and make sure everything was alright, before going back home.

Home, where he was now, with Peter gaping at him as he retold his eventful afternoon.

“I can’t fucking believe it!” Peter finally yelled, gripping his hair and threatening to tear it out. “All these years, that old fucker _knew?! Covered for me?!_ Nooo!” He faceplanted on the table, and let out a groan. “So many things make much more sense now”, he bemoaned. “I’m a goddamn _fool_.”  
“And the food’s gonna be cold. You can desperate and eat at the same time, c’mon”, Wade replied, serving their plates generously.

Peter glared at his lunch – well, considering the hour, it should be dinner, but he wasn’t leaving on the same time as the rest of the world – but eventually started to eat, sullenly at first, and then with more gusto when he realized he was famished and his own cooking was actually good, when he tried. He recounted his own half-day to Wade, and asked whether they would go to see Brock now or the following day – it was late, but if the man was investigating, he could be gone at all hours. In the end, they decided to go before they went on patrol – if Brock was there and they could talk, good, if he wasn’t they would still be going out.

“But what about getting laid”, Wade asked as he watched Peter slide into his suit. “You promised Petey.”  
“And you brought back more lube options than I thought existed”, Peter deadpanned, before he smiled. “Don’t you want the rush of adrenaline first? Being strung up and wound tight and craving release?” He prowled closer and set himself down in Wade’s lap. “I can make it very good, if you’re patient”, he purred against his mask-covered lips.  
“…Alright”, Wade relented. “Yeah, okay. You know how to negotiate.”

Peter smirked and slid his lips to his ear, flesh brushing against his mask.

“Of course, if you happen to have lube in your pockets, _who knows_ what could happen on patrol…”

Damn. His Spider-Wonder was really going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this version of Jameson, based on a piece of a comic I glanced at that basically implied he'd hired Peter bc he knew he'd just lost his uncle and likely needed the money.


	46. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie Brock brings in new lights... and new questions. Why can't things be simple, for once ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what? We're quickly getting close to the end of the first arc (virus Z and who did it). Next arc will be the events of SM:ITSV, and the third and last arc will deal with Eddie and whatever happened to Flash (along with another surprise).

~~ PETER ~~

The address Jameson had given them was a shady motel where one would probably expect to be murdered. They could see the light coming from the windows of Brock’s room, and Peter knocked, earning himself a snort from Wade. The door promptly opened on a man in his mid-thirties with dark circles under his eyes, shaggy brown hair, naked to the waist, the rest covered by too-large grey sweatpants and with a towel around his neck. He had the look of someone who once was broad and muscular, but lost a massive amount of weight in too little time – his face gaunt and skin too pale to be healthy.

“Fuck me you’re the weird hobo”, Wade blurted out, and Peter glanced at him.

The man’s eyebrows twitched as he looked them up and down.

“Come in”, he rasped after a moment.

He shrugged on a t-shirt, swiftly hiding the tattoo sprawling from the small of his back, and turned back to face them, arms crossed.

“Jameson sent you, uh. I figured you might be looking into that.”  
“You’re Eddie Brock, right?”, Peter asked, wanting confirmation before this went any farther.  
“What’s left of him anyway”, the man shrugged. He glanced at Wade. “You _were_ looking into the murders.”  
“I had plans to”, Wade rectified. “Dude, you really don’t look good.”

Eddie snorted and collapsed onto the bed.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve been looking into these murders since they first started, two months ago. At first, I thought it was some king of psychopathic serial killer”, he said gesturing. “Had to be to leave people in that state. Beheaded, with the spine torn off. I think nearly everyone who saw that puked so I won’t show you the pics while we’re inside.”

Peter exchanged a glance with Wade. This seemed more serious than they had thought.

“And you don’t think that anymore?”  
“Why do you think I called for your help?” Eddie retorted. “This is something other. Here is the thing: none of the heads were recovered, so either our guy is fleeing with them, or he’s doing something else that’s really freaking me out. Forensic couldn’t even begin to figure what kind of weapon did so much carnage, with such… regularity. You know what looked most like these wounds? Animals killed by predators. It’s like these people got attacked by something that simply bit off their heads, which would explain why we found none. All the wounds match with a set of teeth, but not of a known predator.”

Peter had a feeling Wade’s eyes were nearly bulging out of his head by now. This sounded completely mad, but they’d both dealt with mad quite enough not to dismiss him outright. And Brock didn’t look mad. Sick, out of his mind with fright, absolutely, completely _terrified_ , but not _mad_ , and that was probably the scariest part of everything. He licked his lips.

“Anything else?”  
“Two witnesses, and one nearly unusable security cam video”, Eddie replied, and grabbed a notepad that had known better days, opening it and flipping through the pages. “Alicia Carols, 22, STEM student. She was walking home from a party when this guy assaulted her. She struggled back and very nearly got knocked out against a wall. Next thing she knew, she was looking, and I quote, ‘at this huge, black monster with milky white eyes and rows of needle sharp teeth, holding my attacker up in the air by his waist, jaw open as if to eat him’. _Then_ she passed out. She was found about five minutes later, unharmed, and her attacker a headless corpse nearly ripped to pieces.”  
“So we’re likely to be dealing with whatever freakshow this monster is”, Peter hummed, shivering with unease.  
“The monster didn’t harm her?” Wade asked in a low voice.  
“No”, Eddie replied, shaking his head, “only her attacker. Who, coincidently, was already under three accusations of sexual assault and armed robbery. All the victims had a criminal record, or were under suspicions. Rapists, violent offenders, many cases of conjugal violence that were never taken to the police… None was an upstanding citizen.” He levelled a gaze at Deadpool. “You were considered a major suspect until that _Daily Bugle_ article with the pic of you and Spidey. Since, as far as we know, you can’t be in two places at the same time, you couldn’t have killed them… And even then, I thought it didn’t look like your _modus operandi_.”  
“Well I _could_ have made an abstract sculpture with heads, but I’m trying to… not murder people. Even if they deserve it.”  
“And so far you’ve been doing quite well”, Peter added, smiling. “What was the second witness?”  
“Jenna Berkins, 84. I want to add that she absolutely needs glasses, that she _wasn’t_ wearing when this happened. Meaning all she saw was blurry as hell. She was watering her flowers on her balcony when, and I quote again, ‘this huge guy all dressed in black entered the alleyway and started to climb the wall.’ In fright, she dropped her water bottle, but the guy ‘caught it, stopped at her level and handed her the bottle back. Then he went on climbing and disappeared on the roof.’”  
“Whatever it is, it’s not completely mindless, then”, Peter whispered. “It chooses who to attack, and seems willing to help those in need. And it doesn’t kill just for a slaughter, since it’s eating heads. I assume we… are food? Food to a monster _trying_ to be ethical?”  
“You don’t seem very disturbed at the idea”, Brock pointed out.  
“You know, at this point, I don’t think I can summon the energy needed to freak out”, Peter deadpanned. “What lead you there?”  
“Its trail. I think I’m not the only one chasing after it, and I think its fleeing something.” He bit his lip and looked away.  
“There’s something else”, Wade pointed out.  
“No”, Eddie said, shaking his head, “I’m pretty sure it’s something between wishful thinking and paranoia.”  
“Say it anyway”, Peter prompted him. “We’re here to help. If this thing is in my city, then I consider it my responsibility.”  
“It feels like someone is observing me. And I’m starting to wonder whether it’s me chasing after that beast…”  
“Or the beast chasing after you”, Wade breathed. “Yeah, I know the feeling. We’ll look into it.”

Peter felt Wade staring at him intently and spared him a glance, but contrary to what Wade seemed to believe, they were incapable of telepathy so he had no idea what he meant to convey.

“Anything else you want to say?”

Eddie looked away, biting his lips, and then let out a breath.

“If you… happen to find anything about one Eugene Thompson. He’s been missing for close to three months now, and I’ve got a feeling the police don’t care.”

Peter stilled completely, holding his breath. The last time he’d seen Flash had been two years before, in the _Daily Globe_ explosion. He didn’t know why Flash had been there, but here was Eddie Brock, who at the time had been working for the _Globe_ – before he got run out of the city, at least. That would be his missing link.

“We’ve been investigating his case”, Peter said after a moment. “We’ll find him.”

He eyed Eddie again, grateful for the intimacy the mask granted him. The man was gaunt, and if he’d been running himself ragged trying to find Eugene… It _could_ be just an effect of his investigation on the black monster, but there had been something fragile and vulnerable in his voice when he’d asked about Flash, suggesting there was more to this then he let on.

“Thank you”, Eddie breathed, dropping his head in his hands. “If you don’t have them yet, I’ll forward you my deposition, since I’m the one who reported him missing.” He pursed his lips. “His colleagues didn’t come by often enough to notice he was missing before weeks, so it was a gamble between his nurse and me. We’re the only people who could have noticed, and I’m not a fool. It’s bad.”  
“We’ll find him”, Peter repeated, stronger.

Even if Flash was an asshole, he deserved to be searched and found, and Eddie wasn’t a bad guy. He certainly deserved to have an answer – even if, as it was likely, that answer was a casket lowered into the earth. It would be better if he knew there was no hope and he could mourn, than to wait, refusing to hope and yet, left without any certainty. Without mourning, there was no hope of ever letting go and starting on your road again.

They took their leave, both of them uncharacteristically silent as they exited the motel and made it to the roof, heavily concerned by what they’d just learnt. As if Virus Z and Craig’s mess hadn’t been enough already, they could now add a weird vigilante monster who made a habit of eating people. Peter had seen many weird things, but he desperately wished for a bit of normalcy now.


	47. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words are said.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade could tell Peter was brooding. Funny how fast he’d gotten the hang on Peter’s tells, but he could tell just by looking at him, and even with a mask on his face. That was what knowing people did to him – hell, that was what _loving_ people did to him. His tendency to obsession left little room for these details to escape. He didn’t say anything, though. Not yet. They took a drunk man back home before he could sprawl on the sideway, stopped a kidnapping, and Spidey escorted a woman back home after he’d noticed the guy quietly stalking her. Wade made it his job to… _persuade_ the man to let go and find himself another occupation. Harassing people wouldn’t be tolerated, he’d made that clear. They paused on a rooftop after that, taking the time to breathe. Peter was still brooding.

“Come here”, Wade whispered, and pulled Spider-Man in his arms, leaning him against his torso.

Peter tensed at first, but then slowly started to relax when Wade lifted his mask just slightly and started to massage his nape, scratching his fingers at his hairline before he dipped them beneath the edge of the mask and into the sweat-damp curls. Exhaustion seemed to seep out of his frame, Peter soon laying boneless in his arms.

“What do you think is the relationship between Flash and Brock?” Peter finally asked after long, long minutes of silence.

Wade huffed.

“Of all the things, _that’s_ what you focused onto?”  
“I’m curious, that’s all”, Peter replied defensively.  
“I bet you my Desert-Eagle that they were together”, Wade replied easily. “The jacket he was wearing? Old, used, and definitively too big for him. Had to be someone else’s, and I’d bet on your Flash.”  
“Flash was a raging homophobe when I knew him”, Peter drawled, “so I have my doubts.”  
“That’s not exactly an argument”, Wade pointed out, “and even so, how many years have passed since you were both in high school? Around twenty, right? It’s a lot of time, for someone to change.”  
“Surely Brock would have said something!” Peter cried out, visibly upset.  
“Would he? We’re not entitled to the privacy of his life, Pete. It’s his choice if he wants to come out or not.” Wade paused. “However, I don’t think he hesitated for his sake alone. Flash was military, just like I was. Trust me, that’s not the kind of environment where you want word to go out that you’re gay. If anything, Flash did an amazing job covering his tracks and keeping his relationship with Brock under wraps.”

He could almost see the cogs wheeling in Peter’s head, and bit back a laugh. Funny how one who was so smart and understood psychology in theory could be absolutely oblivious when it came to people, especially the ones surrounding him. It took a good five minutes before the spider blurted out a loud “fuck, you’re right.”  
Wade snorted.

“Of course I’m right. If you’d paid attention, you would have seen it too. Imagine how scared and desperate you’d feel if your disabled vet boyfriend, with whom you’ve been in a secret relationship for whoever knows how long for his safety, disappeared suddenly, without anyone else noticing, and no one to turn to? Poor Brock must feel like shit right now.”

Peter shivered in his arms, and tightened his grip on him. It really wasn’t a pleasant prospect, and Wade held him closer, his fingers drifting from Peter’s nape to his throat, feeling him gulp, his throat moving as he panted lightly. From what, Wade couldn’t tell. There were still times when Peter’s thoughts and actions were a mystery to him – and he liked it. He liked that there was still so much to learn about the man he loved. Gently, he nuzzled the side of his face, and Peter gasped.

“Let’s go home”, Peter whispered. “Let’s go home. I want you. I want to hold you close enough to feel your heartbeat.” Peter turned, masked-covered lips brushing against his own. “I want to let you know just how much you mean to me, Wade. I want to give you pleasure and see it on your face. I want to unmake you with soft touches and take you so deep and so slow you’ll never want it to end.”

Had Peter not been stronger and more resistant than average, Wade was pretty sure he would have had broken his wrist with how tight he was holding him. His heart was beating wildly already, blood roaring in his ears, all thoughts gone. It was unfair, that Peter’s words and voice alone could have such a power on him. He was supposed to be the fearsome Deadpool, dammit! He couldn’t manage a coherent thought, let alone speech. Instead, he let out a broken moan of desire, craving all Peter had put within his reach, and clamped down hard onto the man as he swung them back home.

Masks shoved up to their noses, they were kissing like their lives depended on it as they landed at the front door. Peter managed to unlock the door in record time and they were inside, hands roaming on clothed skin, seeking contact, wanting more, and for a moment, Wade wondered if they’d make it to the bedroom. They strewn boots and belts and masks around, and Peter was halfway to naked when he suddenly grabbed Wade’s thighs and hoisted him up on his hips.

“Fuck, that was hot”, Wade moaned, biting his lip, fingers curled around his face. “Think you could fuck me against a wall?”  
Peter grinned.  
“I _know_ I could, but I want to take you on the bed. Do you have an aversion to sheets and a comfortable mattress?”  
“No, absolutely not”, Wade breathed as the spider bit at his jaw, climbing the stairs two at a time.  
“Good”, Peter growled, pushing the bedroom’s door open with his foot and easing him down onto the mattress. “Because I meant every word I said, Wade.”

His pants dropped to the floor after a brief struggle, and Wade glanced at his crotch and smirked.

“What, no underwear?”  
“Ruins the lines of the suit”, Peter answered, before he kissed him again, strong, warm hands pining him to the mattress as he undressed him with swift efficiency.

There was an urgency to his moves that spoke both of desire and whatever strange mood had taken hold of him on that roof. Either way, Wade liked it. The boxes had been silenced quickly and completely by Peter’s barrage of kisses and gentle touches, promises made in shapes if not in words. Peter shot a web at the neat stack of different lubes on the floor against the wall, flicking the one he’d caught open and pouring some into his hand.

Wade very nearly shouted when a slick, warm hand grasped his cock and started to stroke him, firm, slow pulls that drove him crazy, a thumb rubbing at the head and spreading the precum already gathering there. He had his hands curled into Peter’s brown locks, holding his head down as they kissed, gasping into each other’s mouth, and he wondered if he’d be able to hold out long enough for what Peter had in mind. Peter’s second hand took its sweet time, rubbing circles into his taint before it drifted lower, a finger pushing at his hole, rubbing at it and catching slightly, making him shiver with want.

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up, bubble-butt, I’ll do it myself”, Wade said after a moment, hips rolling up into Peter’s hand, their bodies pressed tight together, warm and slick with sweat already.

Peter chuckled.

“Such impatience, dear”, he replied, nipping at Wade’s earlobe, and Wade pulled his hair in retaliation.  
“Do you have any idea how _long_ I’ve been waiting for this?”  
“Mmh. Years?” Peter suggested, his finger finally, easily, slipping inside.

Wade almost bit back a moan, before he decided to let it ring in the room.

“Years”, he confirmed. “I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”  
“Oh yes, precious, you have”, Peter purred, quickly adding a second finger when he realized Wade was relaxed enough already. “Now sing for me, darling”, he added with a wicked smile, curling his fingers right into his prostate.

Pleasure burst through him, all thoughts stopping for a second, his toes curling into the sheets and hips rising to meet the wonderful touch. Peter was merciless, massaging that oh so sensitive spot while he nibbled at his collarbones, his other hand nearly immobile on his cock, its movements so slow and small they made him want to cry. Wade took a deep breath and relaxed his fingers in Peter’s hair to rake his fingernails down his back, drawing red lines over his spine, long scratches that made Peter’s hands stutter and his lips part over a groan.

“Please tell me you’re ready”, Peter gasped into half a sob, his fingers slipping out of him.

Wade rose on his elbows and kissed him, curling his legs over Peter’s and flipping their positions. Peter landed on the mattress with a “oof”, his smile wide and bright, and Wade flung an arm out, coming back with the condoms and holding the box up. Peter shrugged in answer, and Wade tossed the box aside, raising to his knees and grabbing Peter’s cock to guide it to his hole. His heart was pounding wildly, eyes fixed on Peter as he slowly sank down onto him, jaw slack with pleasure at the feeling of completion, at finally being filled, and he moaned loudly once Peter was in to the hilt.

“Oh, damn, Petey, you feel so good”, he whispered, admiring the man sprawled under him as he slowly started to rock in his lap. “You’re so gorgeous, you shouldn’t be legal.”

He could hardly see the brown of Peter’s eyes with his pupils so wide, shining with pleasure and desire mixed together in a heady combination, his hair stuck in weird shapes from the sweat and being held by Wade’s hands for so long, and his skin was flushed red and glistening with sweat, muscles twitching under him. Wade was entranced and he couldn’t look away – could only gasp with each stroke downwards and keep on moving, pleasure filling him slowly, cresting and falling like waves, the level rising with each curl of Peter’s fingers on his hips, threatening to drown him.

Peter rose to be closer and he curled down, their foreheads pressed together, too lost to the pleasure to manage kisses, feelings bubbling over and falling from open mouths into pleas, though Wade wasn’t sure which words were his and which were Peter’s. It didn’t matter, they didn’t make sense anyway, disjointed words and praises like so many tokens of affection. Wade felt the pleasure finally crest one last time and only could whisper Peter’s name brokenly before he spilled between them, painting Peter’s stomach white and loving every twitch of his body. He must have stopped moving for a second, overwhelmed, because Peter’s hands were tightening on his hips and rising him up and down as Peter chased his own release.

It wasn’t long to come – one moment, Peter thrust upward, buried as far as he could into his lover, the next he was coming with a moaned gasp, his vision whiting out for a second. Slowly, Wade pulled himself off of him and collapsed by his side with a loopy giggle. He snatched onto Peter’s waist and buried his face in his collarbones, grinning. His hand splayed over Peter’s heart, he could feel it beat, could feel his chest dip and swell with each deep breath, and thought there was no better place in the world.

“Wade?” Peter whispered, something unsure and afraid in his voice.  
“That was amazing”, Wade mumbled against his skin. “Ten out of ten, would do it again.”

Peter snorted, but he’d tensed lightly under him.

“Yes, it was”, he breathed softly. “It’s just…” He bit his lip. “When that fuck-up with Craig is over…”

Now Wade was worried, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let him know that.

“…I don’t think I’ll want to move out again”, Peter confessed. “Lately I’ve spent more time at yours than at mine, and being here, with you… It feels like I’m finally living again.”

What remained of Wade’s brain nearly short-circuited, and he gulped. Very slowly, he brought Peter’s fingers to his lips, and planted a kiss on his knuckles.

“That’d make two of us”, he replied in a whisper.


	48. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you want the good news first or the bad news first?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... some of you might have noticed, but I finally turned this into the series it was always meant to be. The next installment is just a little interlude with some characters whom we'll meet in the second arc (aka the events of SM:ITSV).

~~ PETER ~~

Peter felt his heart stop and soar. Slowly, he rolled over Wade, knees bracketing his hips, body still lit with the aftershocks of pleasure. Very slowly, he bent, pressing his lips to Wade’s, and kissed him, slow and deep.

“I’m scared”, he whispered against his lips. “That we’re going too fast and are only gonna get hurt.”  
“Sweetums, for me it was instant love. I’ve only been sinking deeper every time. I’ve got no hope of going back up any time soon”, Wade replied with raw honesty. “I’m patient, darling, but I’m just a man.”

Peter’s eyes widened with wonder.

“How did I get so lucky? You are… everything I ever wanted, and more. Sometimes I still wonder if maybe I’m not dreaming all of this. Us.”

Wade threaded his fingers through his hair and gently pulled him down for a sweet kiss.

“I’ve been thinking the same”, he replied. “I really want to try this. Seriously. Do our best to make it work.” He smiled, but Peter could see a hint of worry in his eyes. “When the mess with Craig is over, and I hope it’ll be soon because Christmas is coming-”  
“It’s November, Wade.”  
“ _Christmas is coming_ ”, Wade insisted, “and I- I’d like to spend it with you… and with my daughter.”

Peter felt like all his breath had escaped his lungs and vacated the premises. A daughter. Then, he remembered a strange call in the middle of the night, from Wade’s phone, but it wasn’t Wade on the other side. He remembered his rescue of a young teen, and the friend who literally saved her life with a call.

“Tell me”, he said, biting back a grin, “does your daughter happen to be a teen with dark skin and curly hair?”

Wade’s eyes widened.

“You met Ellie?”  
“She’s called Ellie? You have a wonderful daughter, darling. You can be proud of her.”  
“Eleanor”, Wade replied. “And yeah, I am. She’s one of the rare things I haven’t screwed up. She’s the reason I’m… doing my best to be better. I was too fucked up to raiser her. Couldn’t believe she was mine at first, really. But she got the good things, and the people who raised her are great. Having her here, with you, it would be the best kind of present.”

Peter smiled.

“And I’d be delighted to meet her. She won’t be too disappointed that Spider-Man is an old man?”

Wade snorted.

“Are you serious right now? She’s been a fan of yours, even before I knew about her. Liking you runs in the family, I’d say. And… you saved her best friend. Also”, he paused to kiss the tip of Peter’s nose, “you’re not old.”  
“I’m fast approaching forty, Wade. I’m not exactly _young_ anymore.”  
“Baby boy”, Wade purred, and Peter fought back a laugh because _of course_ Wade would choose now to use this nickname. “Itty bitty spider. I’ve definitely reached what they call middle-age. If anyone’s old, here, it’s me, and I’m most assuredly in my prime, thank you very much.”  
“That you are”, Peter agreed, readily grinding down into him and feeling the already growing hardness there. “Care to go again?”

Peter was sore in the very best way when he woke up the following day. He had no idea what time it was, but he was pretty sure he’d slept more than he’d planned to. Then again, it’d been quite some time since he’d gone three times in one night and no matter what Wade said, he wasn’t exactly _young_ anymore. Enough that he was still tired the morning following extremely satisfying rounds with his lover. His boyfriend.

He grinned like an idiot in his pillow at the thought, and felt Wade shift in the bed beside him, his fingers running up and down his back.

“You’re in a good mood”, the merc said, his voice still rough with sleep – and maybe, and Peter would take pride in that, from screaming himself hoarse.

He was pretty sure the neighbours hated them.

“I got myself an incredible boyfriend, of course I’m in a good mood.”

He rolled slightly and felt the mattress dip when Wade bent over him to press a kiss to his lips. Oh, yeah, he could definitely get used to that. Slowly, Wade’s weight settled against him, and he moaned lightly into the kiss.

“You know”, he panted against his lips, “I’m starting to doubt we’ll ever be able to get anything done.”  
“We can take a few minutes to take care of… morning problems”, Wade replied with a grin, “it’s not like anyone will mind.”  
“Your healing factor would have been greatly appreciated when I was younger”, Peter whispered, sliding his hands over Wade’s nape and bare back. “I remember my sex drive being absolute hell. Having super-strength and increased stamina _really_ didn’t help.”

Wade laughed, his large frame shaking against him, and kissed him again. There was a sweetness to his kisses now that there wasn’t before, probably knowing that his affection would be well received and returned. His hand wrapped around both their cocks, jerking in a slow, tight grip that threatened to drive Peter mad. In answer, Peter raked his fingernails down his back, pulling broken moans from him, Wade panting against his throat and laying open-mouth kisses there.

Peter spilled first with a gasp, laying spent and breathless under Wade. His boyfriend – his boyfriend! – followed not long after, splashing warm and wet over his stomach and Peter made a face. Going at it several times in the night hadn’t done them any favour and a shower was long over-due – he really didn’t look forward to peeling dried semen from somewhere with hair that definitely had no business being pulled – but he was too boneless to even consider getting out of bed.

Wade collapsed over him with a wet splat and a chuckle and Peter wondered why he’d gotten himself an idiot boyfriend. He was about to make a comment about their state of being when Wade’s phone rang, somewhere on the floor where most of their clothes were. The man groaned but pulled himself up and grabbed the bottom half of his suit from the wood flooring, shaking it until his phone fell out. The caller ID displayed WEASEL, with a truly unflattering picture of their mutual… friend.

“It’s better be good news, Weas”, Wade answered, and Peter listened intently.  
“Well, the good news is that the gang wars are over. Someone kicked a few higher-up asses and brought order back.”  
“Let me guess, the not-so-good news is that someone’s identity?” Wade asked.  
“I mean, _I_ personally don’t care, as long as business can pick up again”, Weasel replied. “But I thought maybe Peter would care. Or your friend Spidey.”  
“Well, spill! I’m not above making you do so forcefully and you know that.”  
“There’s no need for threats, damn”, Weasel sighed. “It’s Frisk.”  
“Kingpin?” Peter hissed. “Damn. I’m glad if peace is back, but this is bad.”  
“Yeah, well”, Wade drawled. “I suggest we do something about the zombies before we go villain-hunting. Christmas, remember?”  
“I remember”, Peter replied sullenly.

It was a good thing that the city was no longer at war, but that it had aided with the advancement of one of the most dangerous criminal under-lords didn’t exactly sit right with Peter. Still, it had to be expected. Craig might have lost some of his clout, it had still left a power vacuum big enough for Frisk to step in.

“Any other news?”  
“Another zombie”, Weasel sighed. “And Joshua Jefferson, the witness, has managed to kill himself. Pickle was the one who found the other zombie and brought the intel back here. We’re lucky he’s smart enough to know how to handle a biological threat _and_ who might care about this.”

Peter frowned, trying to conjure a face to go with the name. Pickle was one of the regulars, a lanky mercenary who almost always looked dazed, but was really damn sharp when it came down to his work – and wickedly skilled with evidence disposing. He was the one you called when you wanted a crime scene thoroughly cleaned, and never left a loose thread behind. Ruthless and effective – and also one, Peter knew, that Wade definitely saw as an ally. Some things just didn’t fly with Pickle, and he’d helped Wade in his vigilante venture more than once.

“We’re coming”, Peter called loud enough for Weasel to hear.  
“Are we?” Wade replied, disgruntled.  
“I want this over and done with”, Peter replied. “C’mon, chop-chop.”  
“You have no idea how much I loved that sound.”  
“Stop flirting while I’m on the phone”, Weasel groused, “it’s repulsing. Pickle agreed to talk to you, just send a text when you get on your way so he can be there too.”  
“Will do.”

Wade ended the call and dropped his phone on the bed, pensive.

“I didn’t think it would end so quickly without me needing to step in”, he said after a moment. “But I’m glad we can both finally go out again. Let’s go, then. I’m sure MJ will be thrilled to be free to go.”

Peter nodded and, with a sigh, rolled out of bed.

When this was all over, he really was going to take a vacation.


	49. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All it takes is a moment.

~~ WADE ~~

Mary-Jane was definitively happy to be able to go back home. Once she was safe behind her door, Wade looped an arm around Peter’s waist and dragged him around to Sissy Margaret’s. It was the middle of the day so the bar was mostly empty, but the few customers there did raise their glasses to Peter. News went fast, they probably already knew who had taken over Craig’s business.

“Table in the corner”, Weasel said without looking at them, nodding at said table. “Peter, I’ll be expecting you tomorrow night.”  
“You got it boss”, Peter replied with a jaunty salute.

There were people, of course, who stared at their clasped hands, but one look from Wade was usually enough of a deterrent. You didn’t do much staring if you didn’t have eyes to do so.

“I can practically hear your murderous thoughts”, Peter whispered, snuggling up against him – he fit perfectly against his shoulder. “Let them stare.”  
“They think you’re my boy-toy”, Wade protested, and Peter grinned in that way that lit up his whole face and crinkled his eyes adorably and _damn_ , Wade was so weak for these dimples.  
“Well, they’re not exactly wrong”, Peter laughed, pulling him forward by his belt and standing on his tip-toes, so that their mouths were a hair-breadth apart. “Unless you want to tell them exactly how well I fucked you last night.”

Wade shivered.

{The _things_ that did to us!}  
[We’re getting a subscription to uncomfortable hard-ons], White sighed.

His fingers clenched on Peter’s nape, pulling him away slightly, so he could stare back into those wide, warm brown eyes.

“If you do that I’ll make sure to leave marks you won’t be able to hide, and give you a limp that’ll last for days.”

Peter made a sound that Wade barely managed to muffled by slapping a gloved hand over his mouth. So, maybe Peter was right and keeping it in their pants long enough to do something was going to be damn near impossible. That was not exactly a bad perspective. He smirked and he leaned forward, and even through the mask he was sure Peter could recognize his expression as what he called “pure evil”.

“Keep on doing that and I’m shoving you down to your knees right away.”

Peter fucking _whimpered_ , and there went Wade’s sanity.

“You know, if you two could refrain from fucking right here, we’d all appreciate”, a voice drawled, and Peter snickered and turned bright red.

The PDA, of course, hadn’t gone unnoticed. Like they cared – they’d been flirting like dogs in heat from the very first day and damn if he wasn’t willing to slide under a table and please Peter right then and there.

[Are you fifteen, that sex is all you can think about?]  
{We have a gorgeous _boyfriend_ and we haven’t even nailed him deep and hard yet!}

“What are the boxes saying?” Peter asked, shooing the one who’d talked away.  
“That I should really get to bend you over a table and fuck you now”, Wade deadpanned. “You’re definitely paying for this once we’re back home.”

Peter tugged lightly at the leather harness keeping his blades on his back, smirking, and pulled himself close.

“I’ve been working on it”, he whispered, the heat of his voice pooling down to Wade’s groin {we so did not need that right now!}, his breath warm despite the mask. “If you can control yourself enough to go slowly, I’m pretty sure I can take you. I _can’t wait_ to try”, he added with a smirk, pulling away and sauntering to Pickle’s table.

The absolute _bastard_.

Pickle seemed absolutely unbothered by their shameless flirting, but the moment Peter sat down, the spider went with a professional look that sent shivers down Wade’s spine. People knew Peter was one of Spider-Man’s informants and didn’t bat an eye to him taking care of hearing intel for him. Wade couldn’t help but wonder how many had figured out the truth. Peter wasn’t exactly subtle, but at the same time, if you didn’t pay attention, it was really easy to overlook the evidence. There was also the fact that most people expected Spider-Man to be some kind of badass higher-up, probably military or something similar, and there stood Peter, a former newspaper photograph turned bartender, reaching forty and trying to keep his life together.

“Weas said you had intel”, Wade started, and Pickle squashed the cigarette he’d been smoking into the ashtray on the table.

Pickle nodded, sparing a glance at Wade before settling his attention on Peter. Pickle was one Wade wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’d figured out who Spider-Man really was. Pickle was way sharper than he let on, and just because he rarely resorted to violence didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of taking care of himself.

“Back in the day, I was field-medic”, Pickle said, his voice smoother and lower than people expected. “I know a real threat when I see one, and whatever kind of shit did that to my contract, I want it gone.”  
“Yeah, it’s a real shit”, Wade agreed. “Useful in your line of work, though.”

Pickle snorted and shook his head.

“Mate, my job is to make corpses disappear and clean-up scenes. This? This is not even remotely acceptable. There’s a goddamn reason biological weapons are forbidden.”  
“It was your contract who got zombified?” Peter asked, pulling Pickle’s attention back to him.

Pickle nodded.

“I don’t take many hit jobs but this one paid well. Kill the guy in his office, get rid of the corpse so it would never be found again and clean up the scene like nothing ever happened. When I got there, the guy had an open bottle of brandy, a half-empty glass, and he was already rotting alive. One of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen”, he added with an afterthought. “Anyway, I don’t touch anything like that when I don’t know what happened.” He shrugged. “Burnt the whole thing to ash, figured whatever it was wasn’t likely to survive fire. Not exactly what my contract said, but I don’t fuck with biological threats.”  
“And you made a good call”, Peter assured him. “Virus Z is extremely dangerous. Who was your contract?”  
“Jeremy Bell”, Pickle answered, pulling a file from gods only knew where. “He works at Alchemax. Pretty bright guy, with a doctorate in bio-chemistry and another in epidemiology.” He paused. “It would almost be funny that he got killed by an engineered virus if that fucking thing wasn’t so scary.”

Wade glanced at Peter, who met his gaze, eyebrows going up.

{MY ASS this was accidental. That’s not a coincidence.}  
[You know what they say. Once is an accident, two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern.]

“Someone’s wiping out the brains behind this, or who could potentially find a cure”, he said, and Peter nodded.  
“Fuck”, Peter replied, raking his fingers through his hair. “That’s a complete nightmare.”

{Isn’t Alchemax another branch of the Life Foundation?}

Wade’s brain paused. It was. If fucking was. Bell’s death was certainly not an accident, and worse, it was very likely that it was due to the virus’ creation. Now Wade wanted to put his nose in Carlton Drake’s business like nobody.

[Now wait a FUCKING SECOND-]

He hastily pulled a notebook from one of his pockets and took the pencil Pickle offered – bless the guy, seriously – and started to draw a schema in harsh lines. Doom Industries, led by Van Doom. His apprentice, Drake, who created the Life Foundation. And now Alchemax, which had once been the realm of one Doctor Octopus, and was now… Well, he had no idea who held Alchemax.

“Who inherited Alchemax after Octopus died?” he asked out loud, trying to parse through the information swimming in his brain.  
“It’s been bought out by Victor Von Doom”, Peter replied softly. “They worked together often, and I know they admired each other’s work.”

[Well fuck.]  
{FUCK.}

“FUCK”, Wade roared slamming the table. “How could we miss this?! It’s so damn obvious I want to bash my own head. I’d probably try if I didn’t know it would upset you, baby boy.”

Peter took the notebook and peered at his messy scribblings, taking in a sudden breath.

“Well, that’s not good”, he finally stated.


	50. Peter

~~ PETER ~~

They needed proofs, a way to expose them, and probably an antidote. The proofs, they would find while investigating the buildings that belonged to Van Doom and Carlton. The antidote… technically, Peter _could_ do it. He certainly had the brains for it. But he couldn’t mass produce it, and doing it with the material he had in the Queen’s house – that was quickly becoming _home_ – would be long and complicated. So he’d sent all the data he had, along with the sampling, in a carefully sealed package at Avengers Tower. Bruce Banner had everything he needed to deal with _that_ , and maybe he didn’t really like most of the Avengers, but he sure liked Dr Banner.

Also, he really, really wanted this to be over and done with so he could spend some time with Wade. A vacation sounded really nice and Wade, late at night, had designed them a rough roadtrip across the states. There was also the fact that with Thanksgiving passed without either of them realizing it, Christmas was definitely looming closer and closer and if they wanted to have Ellie home, this matter had to be settled. Mostly because they’d need the second bedroom to be an _actual_ bedroom.

Which left the matter of spreading the news of mass corruption in the three lead businesses in medical and pharmaceutic innovation, and Peter no longer was a journalist. Even though he’d only ever been just a photograph. Knowing where Jameson really stood helped: he would publish about that. That made Peter’s life comfortably easier.

“How are you doing, precious?” he asked, leaning forward to brush at Wade’s forehead.  
“Less terrible by the second”, Wade grunted. “This is really not how I imagined taking a bath with you.”

Peter chuckled, and checked on the wounds slowly sealing themselves and healing, disappearing behind layers of scars. His idiot boyfriend had managed, somehow, to loosen his hold on an upward swing when they’d gone out for patrol. The momentum had sent him flying and, before Peter could do anything, crashing into a massive ad panel and falling down a good fifteen meters. The results had been… messy, and he really didn’t look forward to the pictures they were sure to find in the newspaper of Spider-Man dragging around a dislocated corpse. And now, two hours later, Wade was still laying in the hot water of his bath, regularly drained and filled again as he healed.

“Did you do this just so we had to delay the investigation?” Peter asked, smiling as he composed a message to Brock, who was the investigation journalist he wanted at his back to deal with this mess.  
“How dare you”, Wade replied, squinting, and then sighed. “No, I didn’t do it on purpose because that was fucking _painful_ and I promised you to be careful and I keep my promise, dammit! BUT!”  
“But you wouldn’t be opposed if I… ah, how shall I put it? Helped you out of your misery for a bit by sitting on your dick?”  
“WELL if you’re proposing…!”

Peter laughed, bent down, kissed him and stood up.

“Stay here, I’m gonna go get us kebabs. I crave meat and greasy fries.”  
“In front of a movie?” Wade batted his non-existent eyelashes, and Peter smiled.  
“Yeah. Wrapped in blankets. I’ll even let you pick it.”  
“I’m great at picking movies”, Wade said with a nod.  
“Last time, you cried watching _Lucky Girl_ and it’s a comedy”, Peter reminded him. “I have my doubts, love.”  
“I won’t pick a comedy then! We’ll watch… a horror movie!”

Peter sighed, shook his head in desperation, and left to get the promised food. He had hoped to get back quickly enough to help his lover out of his bath and towel him dry, but Wade was already wrapped in blankets on the couch, with a movie ready to go. Peter kicked off his shoes and chucked down his jeans after he’d hung his coat on the wall, and curled up next to him, wrapping himself in blankets too. He handed him his meal, noting the progress in Wade’s healing. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the screen as Wade played the movie.

“Really, Wade? _Mean Girls_?”  
“It’s a classic”, Wade protested. “ ‘That’s why her hair is so big… because it’s full of secrets!’”

Peter chuckled, and started to wolf down his own meal. He woke up three hours later with a crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch, half-sprawled over Wade. Untangling himself from his blankets, he carefully picked up the bundle that was his boyfriend in a bridal carry and took him upstairs, laying him on the bed in a more comfortable position than the inhuman shapes he’d taken on the couch. Wade didn’t wake up, to his relief, and he took off his shirt before sliding beside him.

He woke up to a raging hard-on and wet warmth enveloping him and let out a moan and a curse before he even opened his eyes. He couldn’t exactly _see_ Wade, but there was a definite lump underneath the blankets and he sure as hell could _feel_ him. He stilled himself to keep from bucking up in his mouth, fingers clutching the blankets. Feeling him waking up, Wade increased his pace, quickly overwhelming him and making him come entirely too fast. Peter pushed the blankets back and looked at him, his fingers still shaking slightly.

“Well, hello to you too. You seem to be feeling a lot better this morning, love.”

Wade chuckled and planted a bitter kiss on his lips, making him scrunch up his nose at the taste, before he collapsed over him, trapping his own hardness between their hips.

“I’m _so_ lucky to have you”, Wade whispered, nuzzling his jaw, and yep, that was a five-o’clock shadow he had – he’d forgotten to shave _again_. “Mmh, prickly Spidey.”  
“Yeah? You like it?” he whispered teasingly, rubbing his chin against Wade’s skin.

Wade shivered, his cock twitching between them. Yeah, definitely liked it. Peter caught the lobe of his ear between his teeth, nipping gently, and whispered again.

“How about I repay that favour? Give you some beard-burn on your thighs that you’ll probably feel all day? How about that?”

This time, Wade groaned.

“Fuck, you know how to talk to a man, baby boy”, he replied, tangling his fingers in his hair. “That mouth of yours is a sin.”

Peter’s grin grew to feral, and Wade pulled away, worry and amusement flicking through his eyes, especially as Peter licked his lips suggestively.

“Sorry Daddy, I’ve been naughty”, Peter replied, and Wade’s shoulders shook with barely restrained laughter.  
“Is that your version of ‘Forgive me Father for I have sinned'? Really naughty, baby boy. You ought to be punished for that.”  
“Oh, yeah. I really should”, Peter replied smugly, tilting his head up for another – yep, still bitter – kiss. “So, I can repay you in bed… or we can do this in the shower.”

In the end, he repaid him in the shower and, after giving Brock a meeting point, they slid into their suits, evidences gathered in a thick file Peter held tightly, his hands sticking nervously to the plastic. That hadn’t happened to him in a while, but he wasn’t exactly surprised given the stakes. They had to very carefully plan their infiltration in the labs and offices of the Life Foundation, Alchemax and Doom Industries, or it would be the end. _Kaput_. And they had to plan with having Brock in tow, since _he_ was the investigation journalist.

No, Peter wasn’t still bitter about that. He was not. His phone rang on the kitchen table while he took care of making a breakfast omelette, and he twhipped a web at it, answering in the same smooth move.

“This is the Vatican’s library. I’m listening”, he said into the speaker, chucking a piece of bacon into his mouth.  
“Hello, Spider-Man.”

He nearly choked on his bacon. Okay, yeah, no. He was doing that again like, never. Coughing, he swallowed his piece of meat and thumped on his chest.

“Uh, no? Wrong number, sorry.”  
“Quit playing, please. I haven’t slept enough for that, and there isn’t nearly enough coffee around here to keep me awake and aware. As it stands, I’m pretty sure I’m starting to see radio waves.”  
“One would advise you to see a doctor”, Peter quipped, frowning.

He knew that voice. He fucking _knew_ that voice, he just… He couldn’t place it. There was strangled laughter on the other end of the connection, and the man cleared his throat.

“Yeah, maybe I should do that. I received your data and the samples, and I’ve found a cure. Now what I’d like to know is _where the fuck did you find this?!”_

Peter let out a long, heavy sigh.

“Hello, Dr. Banner. Long time no speak. Also, I’m investigating on that and I’m close to a breakthrough, so… watch the news, I guess?”  
“Spider-Man, do you need back-up? I’m pretty concerned that we didn’t notice anything.”  
“I’ll let you know”, he drawled, “but I’d also like to point out that _I’m_ your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, while you guys are the big, dangerous Avengers who take care of planetary threats. I didn’t expect you to notice.”  
“…Are you… Are you still mad that Tony punted your ass when you tried to intervene in his fight with Steve? Because I thought you were more mature than that, given that you’ve been in the business for a little more than twenty years. You know, _a bit like us_.”  
“He BROKE three of my ribs and dislocated my shoulder, _yeah_ I’m still mad. Besides, _he_ was in the wrong and I don’t want to deal with his arrogant ass.”

There was a silence at the end of the line.

“…It was that bad?”

There was genuine concern in Bruce Banner’s voice, and Peter hated him a little more for caring when he damn right hadn’t asked for a thing. Slowly, he let out his breath, calming down. Sometimes, it was hard not to let things get personal, and while it had certainly been a professional disagreement, he considered things had become personal.

“Yes, Banner. I was side-lined for two months because of him. Besides, I don’t like him.”  
“I’m sorry. I wish I’d known, I could have helped you.” Another pause. “You do good work, Spidey. You could be an Avenger.”  
“I like being Spider-Man as a footnote. Every time I’ve been plastered on the front-page, it was never a good thing.”  
“Like your recent alliance with Deadpool? Or should I say _involvement?”_  
“Fuck you, Banner”, Peter spit out just as Wade entered the kitchen.  
“See, now that’s _not_ my job. Ask that morally grey boyfriend of yours”, Banner replied teasingly. “You really won’t tell me a thing?”  
“You have enough problems with the government already. Let me- Let _us_ handle this.”  
“Call for back-up if you need it. I mean it, Spider-Man. Also, drop by to get AT LEAST one antidote dose.”  
“I will”, Peter promised, dropping the call and closing his eyes.

Wade had listened in on the whole conversation, his grin widening with each new sentence.

“You’re really friends with the guy who has anger problems, uh?”  
“Wade, I’m hurt. I thought we were boyfriends.”  
“…Well FUCK YOU TOO”, Wade screeched dramatically. “I am wounded, so terribly wounded, how could you say that?”

Peter chuckled tiredly and nudged his waist with his toes, which in itself was quite a feat of both balance and flexibility. He heard Wade suck in a breath, and with a light warning from his sixth sense, catch his ankle, reducing him to hopping on one foot.

“I should tickle you for that”, Wade said, his fingers dangerously close to the arch of his foot.  
“Don’t you _dare_ ”, Peter warned, wiggling to get out of his grasp.

His fingers brushed the underside of his foot and he squealed, tearing himself from Wade’s hand with one swift jump and finding himself crouching on the ceiling. Wade looked at him, bemused, and burst out laughing.

“Not what I had in mind when I promised to make you climb up the walls, but that works too. Come down now, baby boy. I’m hungry and you’re a snack.”  
“You are terrible, Wade. Terrible”, Peter replied, dropping down smoothly and without a word.  
“Well you have terrible taste, what can I say?” Wade grinned, hip-checking him straight into his chair. “C’mon, tell me what the green guy said. I want to know everything.”


	51. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Break-in at Alchemax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize in advance bc this is the first time I write a hero investigation. Things I'm not used to writing: super-powered (or not) physical fights and investigations. Things this fic has: both.  
> I also know nothing about security systems and breaking-and-entering so we're in for a wild ride.
> 
> WARNING: for the boxes talking shit, so general self-depecrating behaviour etc

~~ WADE ~~

Eddie screamed his lungs out when Peter, as Spider-Man, picked him up from the corner of the street where they were supposed to meet. With Wade wrapped around his back and Eddie squealing in his arms, it had to be difficult for Peter to swing around – and indeed, he paused at the top of a building and let go of them. While Eddie hyperventilated because apparently the guy had vertigo, Wade slid down his lover’s back and took his grappling equipment so he could follow without hindering Peter, who would have to carry Eddie.

[Why are we no longer calling him Brock? He’s Brock, not Eddie. We’re not friends.]  
{Yes he is. He’s Eddie now ‘cause he’s a sad little man without his boyfriend, and because he’s coming with us on a high risk expedition to expose some really awful crooks. He deserves to be Eddie, not just Brock.}  
[You have the weirdest reasoning, you know that?]  
 _Actually it’s a pretty sound reasoning, and it keeps us from hyper-focusing on Spidey’s delicious ass, or the vials of antidote stuffed into our belt-pouches._

He had at least five on him, and he’d lent one of his belts to Spidey so he could carry some more – along with SD cards and USB keys so they could record anything they’d need. Bruce had been nice enough to add a special Avengers beacon; a USB key shaped like a small Hulk that, when plugged in, gave Jarvis access to whatever it was plugged to and set a distress signal to the Tower, meaning the Avengers would assemble and come to the rescue. Wade was half-tempted to steal the key from Peter and plug it in just to see the Avengers from up close, all together, and not get an ass-kicking from Cap’.

But, well. Peter was determined to ask them for help only if it became absolutely necessary, and he was also resolved to not let things go that far. He had his reasons to want to avoid the heroes, and thinking about it, Wade also had his. Namely, about fifteen wanted for arrest reports in the State of New-York alone. He was about sure that if Captain America got him in his sights again, he wouldn’t let go of him easily – and he had plans with a gorgeous man who happened to be his boyfriend.

Their first stop was Alchemax, the sole of the three businesses to have its headquarters and laboratories in the same buildings – a towering skyscraper with about ten storeys of different kind of labs. Doom Industries labs were out of the city, as were the Life Foundation’s, though luckily they weren’t that far one from another. Their headquarters were in a shared, grandiose building in Manhattan, and would be their last stop. The plan would _technically_ allow them to visit all five locations during the night, but Wade had his doubts they would pull it off. Plans often went off-rails and this one was so tightly knit a delay of five minutes would unravel everything. Which was why there was plan B – Plan B being “anything we don’t do tonight, we do tomorrow night”.

Wade didn’t really like plan B. He also knew the probabilities they’d have to fall down on it were way higher than he liked. He glanced at Eddie, who appeared nervous but determined as they rappelled down from the roof of Alchemax to a pre-selected window – a skylight, always open because the one who used this office felt it stifling when the window was close and _somehow_ always knew when it’d been closed. With Eddie webbed to Peter’s back, his eyes closed and face pressed down against his shoulder so he wouldn’t look down, Peter had his hands free for them to pull a stunt Wade thought was a stroke of genius: with the appropriate tools, hooked to Wade’s belt, they unscrewed the window’s hinges and quietly tugged the window out of place.

Very carefully, they slipped it inside and rested it against the wall, before going up to pass through the opening now large enough to let even Wade’s own massive shoulder pass. Eddie was the first to go, tightly held by Spidey and trembling all the while until he was safely inside. Wade would be very surprised if Eddie didn’t throw up at least once during the night.

{Give the guy some credit!}  
 _I’m giving him credit! He’s white as a sheet and slowly turning green. That’s not a good colour on a human being._

Once Eddie was inside, Wade went, squeezing himself through the hole and dropping down on the other side with a quiet thud. Peter landed just after him, graceful and silent, and Wade fell a little bit more in love with him.

“You sure you deactivated the security system?” Wade whispered to Peter.

Spidey nodded.

“Certain. I’ve used this frequency tool several times already, I know it works.”  
“Yeah but… this was Doc Ock’s building. He probably had extra security.”  
“Definitely”, Peter agreed, and Wade’s jaw dropped a little.

They hadn’t talked about that. Why hadn’t they talked about that? Spider-Man let out a loud sigh.

“I told you not to worry about it, didn’t I?” he said, jumping on the ceiling and crawling up to the desk, lowering himself with a web and sliding a USB key into a slot of the tower. “This little program is specifically tailored for countering Octopus. System going down in three, two, one… and we’re good to go! Let’s go, we have twenty minutes to go through the offices. Labs’ are a different security system.”

[Doc Ock was kinda paranoid.]  
{I mean, have you seen his enemies? It’s not paranoia if they really are after you.}  
 _Fair enough. We’d know all about paranoia, I think._  
{There’s worse than you, I’m sure of that.}

Spider-Man pocketed the USB key again, and made his way out of the hall. The director’s office was a few storeys up, but there was the laboratory’s chief scientist’s office down the corridor. In the dark, the place looked pretty gloomy.

{I’m not sure it’s just the dark, though.}  
[Yeah, I’m pretty sure this place is gloomy by day, too.]  
{Look at little Eddie, he’s terrified!} Yellow cackled, and Wade had to resist the urge to slap the back of his own head.

Eddie really didn’t look good, but he marched on bravely and Wade respected that. They made it to the office and, while Peter hacked into the database, Wade set out to search into the drawers, methodically opening files and flipping through them. Equipment orders, scientific jargon, he wasn’t really the ideal man for this kind of investigation – the little he knew from scientific experiment had been gained through his own trauma, and he was _not_ touching that with a ten-feet pole.

[Don’t want to end up crying like a big baby, uh?]  
{What a pussy you are!}  
 _Fuck you guys! You were helpful until now, why are you suddenly turning against me?!_  
[Maybe because we aren’t _real_ but a manifestation of your subconscious and this place makes you fucking nervous?]  
{Maybe because you know the labs down there will bring you close to a full break-down? You are weak, Wade Winston Wilson. Weak and pathetic.}  
[I can’t believe someone like Peter, like _Spider-Man_ , decided you were good enough for him. Either he’s really desperate, or it’s pity-fucking.]  
{Who would want your grilled-cheese face? Or the whole fucking mess that is your head? Wouldn’t it be better to just… blow up your brains? Not that you have any, mind, you’re just so fucking _stupid!_ }

“Shut _up_!” Wade growled lowly, slamming a drawer back in place and resisting the urge to clamp his hands on his ears – it didn’t help, he knew that. “I’ve made a promise, shit-for-brains, and I ain’t breaking it!”  
“‘Pool? Everything alright?” came Spidey’s anxious voice.  
“Fucking peachy”, Wade snarled. “Let’s get moving, I can’t stand this place.”  
“Just a second, I think I’ve actually found something but… it’s heavily encrypted. I’ll just dee-el everything and go through it later”, Spider-Man replied, glancing at Eddie, who nodded. “I’m pretty sure it’s connected, even though at first glance it doesn’t _seem_ to be. Ugh.”  
“Just fucking get on with it”, Wade spit, stalking out the door.

He was not breaking down. He would not break down. Not here. Not now.

_Keep it together, Wilson. Peter is counting on you._  
{But is he really…?}


	52. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter finds out they really kicked the hornet's nest.

~~ PETER ~~

It was quite obvious that Wade wasn’t doing well, but Peter didn’t really know what to do about it – so he heeded his advice and “got on with it”, swiftly downloading the encrypted data. He carefully pocketed the card apart from the others, and motioned for Eddie to come. The journalist was eerily silent, but Peter was no fool and he could see the way he took in everything, analysing and memorizing everything he could. Eddie might not feel at his best, but he made sure to do his job. Peter knew there was a reason he respected the man, but seeing it first-hand was rather different. The grim determination despite the pale skin and sickly air were enough to chill his bones.

He found Wade in the corridor outside, looking at a set of elevator doors like they had personally offended him – or at least, that was what the frown under his mask suggested. He tapped the button to access the lab floors, and they all entered the quite big elevator.

“Don’t come out just when the doors open”, Peter said. “I still need to circumvent the security in the lab, it wouldn’t do for you to trigger it. While some of it might be a normal security protocol, I’m not exactly confident that Doc Ock wouldn’t have booby-trapped the whole thing.”  
“I can spring the traps”, Wade said gruffly.

Peter turned to him, horrified.

“ _No_ ”, he replies, his voice betraying his shock. “We are not springing any traps.”  
“I _can’t_ die, obviously I can do this!”  
“You still suffer horribly”, Peter pointed out. “I’ve pieced you back twice already, and I’d rather not have to do it unless absolutely necessary. You are not stupidly sacrificing yourself.”

He could feel Wade’s glare on his nape, and Eddie cringing away from them, clearly not wanting to be involved in their spat.

“And if you do anyway”, Peter resumed, because he knew his man, “you will sleep on the couch.”  
“Now that’s just cruel, Baby Boy”, Wade whined, and he vaguely heard Eddie smother a laugh.  
“Well then don’t die or get yourself critically injured if it’s not last resort”, Peter retorted. “I _will_ bitch about it if you do.”

He felt Wade slightly relax at his words, as though he had expected it. Which, in retrospective, he probably had. The doors opened and they waited, standing still, while Peter pulled a ridiculously small tele-guided car, set in the ground, and watched it roll out into the night, a USB key affixed to its roof. Peter controlled it from his phone, and it was ridiculously easy to access the specific panel he needed to plug the USB in. There was a light chime, and Peter pocketed his phone again, before he strode out into the labs and picked up the car to tuck it back into a pouch.

“…That was ridiculously adorable and also very hot”, Deadpool confessed as he followed, and behind him, Eddie rolled his eyes.

The labs were very neatly clean, and it was obvious that Doc Ock had not spared to the expense here: the material was great quality and very expensive, and quite obviously well cared for. This main room looked, in fact, strangely sterile, and Peter bypassed it completely in favour of the door opening at the back. There was a long corridor, infinitely creepier than the one for the offices, with large windows opened into the walls, allowing anyone passing by to look in on the rooms beyond.  
Peter wasn’t surprised to see there were animals kept in there, not when Alchemax, lately, had taken to work on genetics. He knew that they had bought out quite a good number of Oscorp’s patents, and this had been included.

He still flinched when he saw the rows of glass cages occupied by spiders of various sizes and appearances. It reminded him eerily of a long ago experience that had resulted, ultimately, in his being here at this very moment. That didn’t make it any more pleasant, though, especially when he recognized some of the labels used for the spiders as part of the encrypted data that had held his attention.

“Friends of yours?” ‘Pool asked in his ear, and he huffed.  
“Bad memories. I’m actually not too fond of genetically modified and engineered spiders”, he replied wryly.

Without the decrypted data, nothing of what they saw seemed particularly incriminating. Maybe a bit unethical, but nothing on par with a biological weapon that could easily be mass-produced and used to target specific parts of the population. He couldn’t help but wonder what Lehnsherr would think of that – nothing good, that’s for sure. The means to destroy humanity and ensure mutant survival, maybe. Peter thought, personally, that the old man was a bit touched in the head, but then he could hardly blame him.

They left Alchemax the same way they came in, and within the time allotted in the mission plan, but Peter still felt a little bit relieved to be done with this one. Doc Ock was _definitely_ one of the worst villains he fought, and he was thankful it was one he no longer had to fight. They piled up into Wade’s Sedan and drove as close as possible without getting caught to the Life Foundation’s labs. Peter wouldn’t be concerned with infiltrating if they didn’t have Eddie in tow. The man was fit and athletic, but that had nothing on Wade’s healing factor and harsh military training, or his own super-powers. He’d wonder at the wisdom of dragging him with them if he didn’t know how good the man was.

To his relief, Eddie kept the pace and they soon found themselves in the building itself, with the cameras on loops and the security system disabled for a good thirty minutes. It wasn’t as good as Alchemax’s, but Peter wasn’t going to complain about that when it made his life easier, especially as Wade had been growing sullener with each minute that passed. It was obvious to him that his boyfriend was uncomfortable, and hadn’t that been unadvisable and dangerous, he would have held his hand in a quiet show of comfort. But that was not something you did on the field, and Peter tried to keep things professional when it was needed.

“Uhm, guys?” Eddie called, and something in his voice told him to _hurry the fuck up_. “What are those?”

Behind a glass panel, in a suitable atmosphere whose composition Peter could decipher on the near-by touch-screen, a dark blue mass twitched and swirled, terrifying and very much alive.

“It looks like chewed chewing-gum”, Deadpoold remarked, very helpfully.

They all startled back and flinched when the _thing_ launched itself at the window and stuck to it with a deeply unsettling suction sound. Peter was quick to download the intel from the port and skim through it, his breath stuck in his throat.

“They’re an alien species”, he replied, “that they call Symbiotes.” He gulped, and swore: “They intend to create a symbiosis between a human being and one of these Symbiotes, but apparently, so far, all trials have failed.”

He felt Wade tense beside him.

“What do you mean, _failed?”_  
“I mean the human subjects _died_ ”, Peter replied, looking into Wade’s frozen mask. “This is not what we set out to find, but it’s still huge.” He skimmed over the rest of the intel, and paused, his heart falling to his stomach. “They have a partnership, Wade”, he whispered. “With Doom Industries. For something called Project X.”

His spider-sense wailed, and Wade’s fist connected violently with the wall. He distinctly heard the bones shatter and saw them pierce through his armoured glove, and winced. The blow made the Symbiote react, squirming on the glass – which Peter was pretty sure was bulletproof – and trying to get closer to Wade.

“Son of a bitch”, Deadpool screamed, clearly enraged. “Why do they always reappear when I think I’m finally done with them?”  
“So we all agree human trials on, apparently, fragile subjects, are horrific, but what’s wrong with him?” Eddie whispered at Peter, making him twitch.  
“Deadpool wasn’t born immortal”, Peter replied in a breath. “He was one of those human experiments for Project X. This has just become deeply personal.”  
“Oh fuck”, Eddie commented, blanching. “It’s worse than I thought.”  
“I _really_ don’t like the patterns I’m seeing”, Peter replied through clenched teeth, watching his lover scream himself hoarse and shatter his bones against the walls in manic anger.

He couldn’t do a thing for him, and it only made it all worse. He eyed the Symbiote warily while Eddie took pic after pic – he might be a horrible photographer, but this was not art, this was an investigation – of the strange aliens in their containment units. It was terrible for both the human involved, and the aliens held captive, but he couldn’t exactly do anything. Sure, he could free the poor people stuck in there: Life Foundation would just have to pick up others. They didn’t seem to hold human life in high regard. And doing so, he would also alert them and their allies that he was onto them. The best option would have been to free the Symbiotes along with the humans, but he didn’t have the means to care for the aliens who needed, apparently, another atmosphere and a kind of sustenance Life Foundation hadn’t been able to figure out.

“Wade”, he called softly, and his boyfriend turned on his heels and nearly bowled him over. “Wade, we need to find the people they meant to experiment on. And then I’ll plug Banner’s key in, and we’ll let them deal with this whole mess, okay? We’ll deal with Project X once we’ve got the people and the Symbiotes safe.”

Wade was trembling, which didn’t surprise him, but he’d stilled to listen, and gave him a jerky nod. Very carefully, Peter set his hands around his jaw, and silently asked permission to lift his mask. Receiving no objection, he rolled it up above Wade’s nose and lifted his own, pressing a comforting kiss to his lips, keeping himself calm even though he was boiling with anger. Wade needed stability, at the moment. He couldn’t afford to break down.

“Thank you”, Wade murmured, and Peter found the strength to smile.  
“Anytime, love. Now, let’s free these people and make Life Foundation regret ever dabbling in human experimentation, okay?”

He had a feeling the building would, somehow, disappear in an explosion.

And he couldn’t really bring himself to care: some things were better left to burn.


	53. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black alien thingy??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh guys I'm SO MAD like. I ALWAYS fall for the same thing it's terrible. My mom went "do you want to come to the pharmacy w/ me?" and I didn't really want to but I knew she'd like it if I went so I went, thinking "it'll take, what, half an hour, maybe forty minutes?"  
> So off we go, and she says "and we'll stop by the bank, and by the book-box too" and I was like "... that was NOT part of the agreed contract, why do you always do that to me" BUT those weren't long thing to do. And then. Her phone rings. My Aunt, who goes "maybe I can call you back later if you're busy" "no no don't worry, I can talk until I have to be in the pharmacy" at which point I'm like "BIG FAT LIE MAMA YOU NEVER DO".  
> I was right. We stopped outside the pharmacy while she talked and I stewed there like "mom there is sickness around I do NOT want to linger. Mom there are lots of people around and I hate people". (Saying nothing of course. But I did stare at her pointedly, and then back at the pharmacy. Several time) Until I'd had enough and went "just give me the paper I'll go there myself". Had to wait, security measures etc, got the thing, went out, she was STILL on the phone. She hangs up and we're on our way back and I'm like "FINALLY"  
> And there. THERE. Of course we meet someone we know. And so of course we have to stop and chat.  
> ONE FUCKING HOUR FOR THE WHOLE THING. Had I gone alone, I would have been done in 20.
> 
> SO, yeah, I had plans to post earlier and write a bit but I guess it'll just be posting.

~~ WADE ~~

It felt like a ringing in his ears, his sweat running cold down his back. Project X. A long ago nightmare he had finally managed to set behind him, tearing out of its grave.

{We didn’t use enough explosives.}  
[How is it _possible_?]

Peter’s fingers gently rubbed the edge of his jaw, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He wouldn’t break down now. He hummed into the sweet kiss his lover gave him, taking strength in his presence, in his quiet assurance and steadfast love.

He heard Eddie shuffle awkwardly, the man unwillingly third-wheeling, and couldn’t hold back a snort.

“Eddie is of those people I find very enjoyable to make uncomfortable.”

He felt Peter grin against his lips.

“You too, uh? C’mon, let’s give the poor man a break and try to finish this mission.”

Finding the people rounded up for human experimentation wasn’t too hard: they were held by two or three in windowed cells that made him snarl even as Peter over-rid the security program and opened the cells. Then, in the same swift movement, he plugged Banner’s Hulk key.

“Hello everyone”, Peter called, “we are here to rescue you. The Avengers will be there soon to help you, you have nothing to fear.”

There was a murmur, and the people shuffled, but showed no other reaction. Peter frowned and looked again through the intel they had obtained, and swore.

“Most of them don’t speak English, and I only speak English! I’m bad at languages.”

This, Wade could do, and it eased his mind a bit.

“I’ll translate, then.”

Peter called the needed languages and Wade repeated his words – in Spanish first, then in Italian, Ukrainian, Russian, Polish, French, Turkish, Chinese and Japanese. He also added a translation in ASL, and made-do for other languages. He toned down his own boisterous nature, knowing first-hand how frightening it would be for these people, and found spare blankets which he distributed around.

“How long before the Avengers arrive?”  
“Iron Man should be here in… two minutes”, Peter replied, glancing at his phone. “I suggest we clear out before they get there, otherwise we’ll get caught in the machinery and I’m not in the mood.”  
“We still have Doom Industries’ labs to check”, Wade said. “We won’t have enough time for their headquarters, but at this point I’m really expecting Virus Z there.” He looked above Peter’s shoulder. “Eddie, we’re moving. You come with us or stay here for the Avengers?”  
“I come with you”, Eddie replied, clutching his camera. “There’ll be plenty of news coverage now that the Avengers are involved. I’m not letting the other bastards off because this proved a sufficient distraction.”

Wade grinned under his mask, and looked at Peter.

“I like him”, he said.

They were in the car just as Iron Man landed and entered the building, the cavalry soon following. Doom Industries labs looked… ominous. The large chrome dome gave an off-worldly sensation, and Wade didn’t like it at all.

“Oh”, he breathed as they made it to the front gates.  
“Looks like we’re not the firsts there”, Peter replied, and Eddie gulped.

The gates had been torn through by something massive and obviously powerful, and it didn’t bid well. It became worse when, after they’d entered the premises, they saw the first headless corpse. A security officer, his weapon in hand, still hot from firing. Eddie vomited right then and there, and Wade stalker closer to the corpse. The man hadn’t simply been decapitated, his head been clearly bitten off by something with a massive jaw.

“I think”, he said carefully, looking at Eddie, “that we found your dark, head-eating monster.”

They made their way to the front doors, just as smashed in, glass strewn everywhere, and Peter started to infiltrate the security system, before he paused.

“This thing must be smarter than I first thought”, he said. “It has disabled the security response. The alarms went off, but it never made it to back-up. If there’s someone in there with it, they’ll be expecting a response.”  
“Great, just what we needed”, Wade replied.

They slipped inside, wondering where to go first, when they heard the voice.

“Associating yourself with Project X was _stupid_ , Carlton! Look at that, they took one of your Symbiotes and managed what you couldn’t do, sure, and for what? _FOR AN EXPERIMENT ON THE LOOSE_ ”, the voice roared, clearly infuriated.

Electricity crackled ominously.

“You know as well as I do that symbiosis is the next part of our plan, sir”, another, slightly pleading voice answered. “With humanity purged, what remains can achieve symbiosis and live elsewhere while the world rights itself! No more super-heroes to counter our plan and keep us from saving humanity from extinction, no more _mutants_ , just humanity and Symbiotes united! With the army promised by Project X, our plan will no longer be just a dream!”  
“I’d say that sounds downright villainous, doesn’t it?” Wade whispered to Peter.

His boyfriend twitched slightly, but didn’t deny. He seemed deep in thought.

“They have a human symbiosed with a Symbiote on the loose”, Peter murmured. “And we have an unidentified monster lurking about and eating people, but not just anyone. A sentient and clearly smart creature, we agreed on that.” He looked up, the wide lenses of his mask blinking slowly and reminding Wade of a cat. “What are the probabilities that their experiment and our creature are one and the same?”  
“Very high”, Eddie replied behind them. “You know the saying, ‘one time is an accident…”  
“Two is a coincidence”, Wade continued.  
“And three’s a pattern”, Peter whispered. “I do believe their talks of purging humanity are genocidal and eugenic enough to warrant an intervention.”

Eddie snorted.

“You don’t say.”  
“I’ll do the honours”, Wade said, and stepped out of the shadows before they could stop him. “Gentlemen. Wouldn’t you happen to be linked to Project BW-0S0T? I’m afraid this is _quite_ against the Geneva Convention. And basic human rights, might I add.”

He recognized the two men at a glance, their portraits having been pinned to the war-room wall for quite some time now. Victor Von Doom looked deeply affronted by his appearance, and Carlton Drake, downright frightened. Considering they’d just raided his facility and let everything in the hands of the Avengers, he had reasons to be – except he didn’t seem to know that yet.

“Deadpool”, Doom sneered. “I don’t recall inviting you here.”  
“Maybe not”, Wade agreed, “but he did”, he said nodding at Carlton. “Dealing with Project X, hun? Not a good idea.”  
“Why do you care?” Carlton replied. “This is none of your business! Fuck’s sake, you’re a gun for hire!”  
“I’ve been toning down the whole killing people business lately”, Wade retorted. “Also, I happen to know Project X… ah… _intimately_. You see, I distinctly recall razing their facilities to the ground, and killing everyone that was left. I don’t take kindly to unethical human experiments, even if they pretend to be the last chance of the condemned.”  
“So glad to see I’m not the only one thinking that”, another voice interrupted. “I agreed to a trial experiment, not to be shipped off and sold as a slave-soldier.”   
The man stepped into the light, head twitching. “And the results are rather… beyond expectations”, he growled.  
“Fuck”, Wade whispered, watching with wide eyes as his skin seemed to bubble, something black oozing out of his pores and soon covering his whole body, filling out until a massive black _thing_ with entirely too many teeth and disturbing white, milky eyes was standing there.  
“And we are _hungry_ ”, the thing growled, voice way deeper than the man’s had been, murderous intent in it.

And Wade… Wade didn’t have it in him to want to try and stop it. He glanced aside and saw that Peter and Eddie had made it to a terminal and were downloading intel, and given Spider-Man’s wild gestures, they’d found what they’d been searching for. They were far enough that they hadn’t noticed the newcomer, nor the creature he’d turned into and which was currently prowling towards Carlton and Doom. The first man had blanched, clearly knowing _what_ the creature intended to do – and Wade knew that as well, and Doom was slowly inching away, trying to reach an alarm button on the wall.

The first bullet shattered his extended hand, and got Peter’s attention. The second landed into his shoulder, turning his collarbone to puzzle pieces, and brought Peter running. The third destroyed his right kneecap, sending Doom to the floor with a cry, scrabbling desperately at the clean tiled floor, and Peter knelt by his side, frowning at Wade from under his mask.

“You heroes, always getting involved where you’re not concerned!” Doom spat.  
“I feel concerned plenty when you use a biological weapon that could be used for a genocide”, Peter answered. “Don’t you have enough power already, Dr Doom?”  
“There is never enough power, obviously! You’re here, after all”, Doom growled, and Wade was a bit amazed by his resistance to pain.  
“Sir… Please, Spider-Man! Anyone, PLEASE!” Carlton cried out, shrieking horribly just before the creature tore off his head in a gore spray of blood.

Ah, sliced carotid. Never a good thing if you wanted to survive – though, considering Carlton no longer had a head to speak of, surviving wasn’t exactly a matter of concern.

“That’s useful”, Wade said cheerfully at the beast, grabbing Doom’s collar and hoisting him up. “Care for another snack?”  
“WADE!” Peter shouted, indignant.  
“What? He’s a waste of space, Baby Boy, and our new friend here looks hungry!”  
“Don’t you dare”, Peter growled to both Wade and the slimy black alien towering over them.

The thing smiled, showing off rows of needle-like sharp teeth in a threatening display, and growled.

“We don’t take orders from you”, it said.

Doom was gone before Peter could react, and Wade looked at his missing hand, flabbergasted.

“Not cool, dude! Also, I don’t taste good. Cancer will do that.”

The alien seemed to agree, because it spat out his hand and rolled out a long, long, _long_ tongue that Wade would definitely have fantasies about. Not that he would admit that to Peter.

{Fap-folder}, Yellow crowed.

And then, the black thingy started to roll back and within seconds, the man he’d seen before was standing there. Definitely familiar, though he couldn’t place it – thanks cheese-brain.

“Flash?!” came Eddie’s voice.

There was a blur of movement, and Eddie was wrapped in the man’s arms, kissing him breathlessly.

So much for eating people, apparently.


	54. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is tired. He just wants to go home. Please.  
> He might also have run out of fucks to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than I meant to but this is the wrap-up of the virus Z arc and a good chunk of the Venom one (though Venom, Eddie and Flash will make a come back in the third arc!)  
> I have a few more things I want to write about before we get to the second arc, which will be what happens when they get in an alternate universe.

~~ PETER ~~

Peter was much more of a romantic than many believed him to be. So, of course, lovers being finally reunited was the kind of thing that made him coo, usually.

Except when _Flash_ was one of those lovers and he’d just watched him _eat_ the heads of two prominent scientists. He vaguely wondered how Eddie could be kissing him right now. Eddie was wrapped around Flash, face buried at the junction of his neck and shoulder and holding on tight. From what Peter could see of Flash, he didn’t look too good at the moment. His face was gaunt and he looked too thin for his normally muscular frame, his blond hair lanky and too long for a man who was military. There were dark circles under his eyes, his skin was a bit too pale and he seemed sickly.

And yet, he held onto Eddie like he was the only thing keeping him alive right now.

“I missed you”, came the breathed murmur, too low for normal ears.

And then, Eddie abruptly pulled away.

“Love. You’re _standing_.”

For a man missing his legs, it did sound like a thing, especially since Eddie had said nothing about him getting prosthetics.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your lovely reunion, but _where the fuck is the black alien goo?”_ Peter ultimately said, while Wade watched his own hand slowly grow back with an air of bored fascination.  
“Vee is with me”, Flash replied. “I mean… In me. In my body. I… play taxi, of a sort.”  
“Vee?” Peter repeated, trying to shake himself from his dissociation because this was all just too weird.  
“Venom”, Flash replied. “They’re a Symbiote, and they need a host to survive in an oxygen-rich atmosphere. They’re also the reason I’m standing right now.”  
“And eating people?” Wade chimed in, looking up.  
“Not my fault”, Flash said defensively. “They need a specific chemical found in human brains to survive. We’re limiting ourselves to absolutely evil assholes… though it’s still an on-going process. Vee doesn’t really have… moral qualms.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Because you do?”  
“What have I ever done to you, Spider-Man?” Flash retorted, clearly upset.

Peter stamped down hard on his urge to tell him _exactly_ what he’d done to him and instead, reached up and pulled off his mask, staring right back at him.

“I think you know _exactly_ what you did to me”, he replied, voice cold. “And you just ate the two lead suspects on my investigation! Do you have any idea how dealing with this kind of mess is? Fucking _horrible!”_

Flash’s jaw fell open.

“Parker?!”, he said. “Oh… Oh wow. So many things make sense now.”  
“Baby boy, I’m sure you have aaaall the data you need to show what kind of villains Doom and Drake were”, Deadpool intervened. “No need to glare at Flash like that. We also avoided what could have been a very, very nasty battle. So call the Avengers in to deal with what remains of Virus Z, either in the labs or outside, and then we can go home.”

Flash’s eyebrows went up, his eyes darting from on to the other.

“Oh that’s too good. The two of you are together? I don’t know which is more amusing: Peter Parker dating Deadpool, or Spider-Man. The nerd, or the hero.”  
“I should have seen it”, Eddie moaned, dragging a hand over his face. “God, I’m such an idiot, it’s so _obvious_.”  
“It’s because it’s so obvious that it works”, Deadpool pointed out. “Like Clark Kent and his glasses. People go ‘what, Clark Kent? Nooo, he could _never_ be Superman!’ and the secret is safe.”

Peter threw his hands up.

“That’s it. I quit. I’m going home, and I’m going to sleep for a _month_ , because I can’t deal with that.”  
“Petey-pie, shouldn’t we maybe do something about the alien goo?”  
“Vee stays with me”, Flash retorted, voice hard and cold. “That’s non-negotiable.”  
“You do realize you are infected with a parasite, right?” Peter asked, staring at him in disbelief.  
“Parasite?! I’m not a _parasite_!” a growl said, and a black head with large, milky white eyes appeared, hovering over Flash’s shoulder.  
“No, you’re not”, Flash assured him, gently petting him like he didn’t see the _big ass sharp teeth what the fuck-_  
“That’s… gonna take some getting used to”, Eddie replied. “Also, eating people isn’t really an option. So that’s gonna be a problem.”

Venom disappeared, but Peter was pretty sure they were talking to Flash, who nodded minutely and clapped his hands.

“Good news darling: there are two other ways to get Vee what they need to survive, _and_ now that I’m here, with you, I have them. Chocolate and being in love.”  
“That’s it. That’s it, I’m dreaming”, Peter stated. “There’s no way all of this is real. This is just some big, strangely realistic dream because I’ve been obsessing over this investigation. Come, ‘Pool, we’re going home.”  
“Sweetums, this is not a dream. Or we’re having the same weird dream and CHARLES XAVIER I’VE TOLD YOU TO STAY OUT OF MY HEAD!”

Peter winced. Right, with all this mess he’d forgotten how close his boyfriend was to completely lose it.

“Love, whoever this Charles Xavier is, they have nothing to do with this mess”, he said gently, taking Wade’s gloved hand in his. “Now, if Flash and Eddie have the goo well in hand, everyone can go home. We’ll chill down, and then we’ll go after Project X. But we can’t keep on going on like this.” He turned to Eddie. “You have everything you need for your article?”  
“And more”, Eddie nodded. “Some heads are going to fall.” His gaze fell on the two headless bodies on the floor. “…Metaphorically. I meant that metaphorically. Vee is _not_ gonna eat more heads.”

Flash’s lips quirked up into a smile, and he took Eddie’s hand in his.

“Let’s go home.”

The two – two and a half? Three? How do you account for a Symbiote who needs a host? – left, leaving Wade and Peter alone.

“I… have no idea what to do about the bodies”, Peter admitted. “I mean, we’re not _supposed_ to be here? But we can’t exactly dispose of them? And I don’t want anyone to be absolutely traumatized by finding them?”

Wade sighed, and bonked him on the head.

“If you can call the police to tell them where to pick up a criminal, you can call them to tell them where to find two bodies. You are more tired than I thought.”  
“That’s putting it mildly”, Peter mumbled.

It was almost dawn already, and Peter was dead on his feet. He gave a cursory call to the NYPD and hightailed it, Wade in tow. He was halfway out of his suit when he fell asleep, collapsed on the couch, with Wade draped over him and snoring the day away.

Sleep and coffee brought a new light on everything, and Peter stared at the headlines recounting the rescue of trafficked humans in the Life Foundation’s labs, thanks to the Avengers work. He snorted, and switched on the TV to see what the news would show of this whole mess.

“I always forget just _how_ handsome he is”, Wade called from the kitchen’s door, a mug in hand.

Captain America was being interviewed as the official Avengers leader, looking every bit perfect. Peter had seen him work, though. He had no idea how the man could do that. He guessed it was magic.

“We cannot take any credit on the investigation that lead to the discovery of what was happening in those labs”, the Captain said. “We were only called to aid rescue the victims, and take charge of some dangerously volatile elements in there. Everything else was the work of the known vigilante Spider-Man, and his new-found acolyte, Deadpool. We may not always see eye to eye, but they did a really good work here.”

Peter turned to stare at his boyfriend, his eyes wide.

“Captain America _praised_ us!”  
“Man, I already had a praise kink before, now it’s never gonna go away”, Wade bemoaned, and Peter laughed.  
“Come here, you big dummy”, he said, pulling him down for a long, tongue-filled kiss when Wade did so. “I’m proud of you too”, he whispered. “You were incredible.”  
“I got my hand eaten by goo”, Deadpool deadpanned.  
“I did not say _perfect_ ”, Peter pointed out, smirking. “I said _incredible_.”  
“ _I never knew you were the someone waiting for me_ ”, Wade hummed, kissing him gently.  
“You’re being sappy”, Peter replied, curling his fingers over his nape. “How about that: _I owned every second that this world could give / I saw so many places, the things that I did_ …”  
“ _Yeah with every broken bone / I swear I lived_ …”, Wade completed. “So… We’re done with this whole thing.”  
“Call Ellie”, Peter said with a smile. “We’ll have a Christmas together.”  
“I love you”, Wade replied, wonder in his voice. “I love you, Peter Parker.”  
“I love you too, Wade Wilson.”

Peter found himself strangely thankful for his fall in the trash months ago, that led him to meet this man who had changed his life in such a profound way, and given it a new sense. Yes, he was looking forward to a Christmas with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics are from:  
>  _Perfect_ , by Ed Sheeran  
>  _I Lived_ , which is apparently by One Republic but I was totally thinking about the Sons of Serendip cover.
> 
> Reminder that the playlist for this fic is [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1P9BTc11fXAcP2XlJ1q4YU?si=wnVie9bqR-G0e-QdRRtK3g)


	55. Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finally gets to meet Ellie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't pay attention to the science I just used big words.

~~ WADE ~~

Wade was glad to resume his weekly day with Ellie. It was even better now that he lived in a suburban house with Peter, and they had moved all their things into this new home. Starting a new life together. The bedroom they had used as a war-room had been reinstated to its original state, so Ellie could settle there. MJ had offered them a potted plant as a house-warming gift, which had made Peter grumble and flush for some reason, but it was small and cute and now adorned the living-room’s table.

Still, Wade was nervous at the idea that in a few moments, his daughter would be home and meeting his boyfriend – something he had never imagined could ever happen. Not after Vanessa. Peter was sitting on the couch and playing video games while Wade paced a hole in the floor, and he sighed, turning off his game and standing up, stretching.

“Alright. You’re being insufferable, even though I keep telling you _it’ll be alright_. So I’m going to swing to her school like it’s nobody’s business and ride the bus home with her. That way, we’ll get to know each other and she can give me the shovel talk if she wants to.”  
Peter was out the door and gone before he could say a thing and he swore, before sending a message to Ellie so she’d know Peter was coming to get her. He had half the mind to tell him to at least take the car, before he remembered the last time he’d let Peter drive his car and the afterwards admission from Peter that he knew the basics of driving, but hadn’t, actually, a permit. The last thing he needed was Peter getting arrested for _that_.

These felt like the longest twenty minutes of his _life_ , and he kept stomping to the window and pulling back the curtains to look outside, to the far side of the street where the bus stop was. It felt like Ellie and Peter would never arrive, even though he knew twenty minutes were the minimum it would take to make the trip in a bus. His heart panged when he finally saw the bus stop, Peter and Ellie coming out and talking animatedly. She was making big gestures – [just like her dad] – and Peter nodded enthusiastically. He couldn’t see him grin from where he was, but from his posture and general body language, it was obvious he was. Ellie’s backpack was slung over his shoulder, just like Wade did when he was walking with her. Those damn things were way too heavy, for some reason.

“-so the biomolecular composite makes it quite easy to recreate, otherwise it wouldn’t be worth it”, Peter was saying when he opened the door.  
“That’s what I thought!” Ellie replied excitedly. “All the other solutions always had something that was impossible to make at home, and it’s always been obvious Spidey was one of us normal people, and not some rich fuck with a private lab!”

Peter laughed, and Wade had never been so in love with the man – mirth in his eyes and features alight with joy and simple entertainment as he talked with his daughter, the one thing that made it all worth it.

“Dad!” Ellie finally said, and hastened up to him to wrap her arms around him in a hug. “I missed you! That was a _long_ mission, I missed our Mondays!”

He hugged her back, answering a “I missed you too”, and let her pull back.

“Peter said you two were planning to have me over for Christmas”, she said, her dark eyes alight with glee. “It’s been so long since I had a Christmas like this!”

She took her bag from Peter and ran up the stairs to put her things in her bedroom, leaving the two of them alone. Peter smiled, stepped up to him and kissed him.

“Hi, darling”, he whispered, and Wade snorted. “You didn’t tell me your daughter was a nerd and a genius. It’s not everyone that can keep up with me when I start talking biochemistry.”  
“Well, I’m actually pretty smart, you know, so I must have given her some of that. The nerdiness is all her own, though. Biochemistry has never been my forte.” He smiled. “I assume everything went fine?”

Peter shrugged.

“It was a bit awkward at first and I got the shovel talk from a bunch of teenagers who have no idea who you are and only knew that I was dating Ellie’s dad, which in hindsight is pretty hilarious, but we got along fast.” He patted his chest. “I’m swinging out to get us some tacos, that’ll give you some quality time with your daughter.”

Wade told him what to get for himself and Ellie and Peter shucked off his clothes to be in his suit, just as Ellie came down the stairs. She stopped, looking at Peter and then at Wade, and smiled.

“Knowing you’re Spider-Man is one thing, actually seeing it is another”, she said. “You’ll have to take me swinging someday, I’ve always wanted to try.”

Peter was staring back at her, bemused, and he then turned to Wade.

“Yep, she’s definitely your daughter.”

Wade laughed and turned to Ellie, who had a knowing glint in her eyes. They waited until Peter was out, and she grinned.

“He’s pretty awesome. I’m glad you found someone”, she said.  
“I was worried it would be weird for you”, Wade finally admitted as they sat down on the couch.

She shrugged.

“It’ll take some adjusting, but Peter seems to be pretty cool. I mean, he’s _Spider-Man_. I couldn’t have invented it even if I wanted to!”

As she talked, she switched on the TV and handed Wade a controller, the two of them settling on the couch and, as it was, sprawling on it.

“Race you on the rainbow road”, she taunted, and with that, the game was on.

Peter came back two hours later with hot tacos and found them still playing. In no time at all, they were squished on the couch, Wade bracketed between his boyfriend and his daughter, while they ate and watched a comedy that had them in stitches.

“Off to bed with you”, Wade shooed Ellie, who rolled her eyes but complied, calling “goodnight!” as she climbed up the stairs and took her turn in the bathroom before she disappeared in her bedroom. “Now the two of us can be all gross together”, he said with a smirk, tugging Peter close and kissing him lovingly.  
“This is-” a kiss “-awfully domestic, Mr. Pool”, Peter replied, grinning so wide he could barely kiss him.  
“Please, my friends call me Dead.”

Peter collapsed in helpless laughter, leaning against his chest and squealing with each new breath, before it turned to snorts interspersed with a strange sound that reminded Wade of seals.

“This is the most unsexy laughter I have ever heard”, Wade laughed, bent over and trying to breathe, only to look at Peter and find himself laughing again.  
“Shut up”, Peter gasped, slapping his thigh. “Your fault.”  
“And proud of it”, Wade added with a nod. “I love hearing your laugh.”  
“You just said it was unsexy!”  
“Because it is! Don’t worry Boo, you don’t have to be sexy for me to love you.”  
“Sap”, Peter teased, chuckling as he calmed down. “Alright, I have to go. Weasel might have agreed to change my work hours on Monday nights, doesn’t mean I can be late.”  
“Be careful out there, Spidey-Boy”, Wade said as Peter pulled out of his embrace, put on his beat-up boots and warm cloak, before he pulled his dark blue scarf up over his nose, and a matching beanie with a Deadpool logo sewn on it by none other than the mercenary himself.

Peter went out to brave the cold to Sissy Margaret’s, while Wade busied himself cleaning up the living-room and washing what few dishes they’d used. Then, he settled down in their bed with his laptop, and started looking for Christmas presents. Honestly, he usually did that much sooner, but time had flown by and he hadn’t gotten a chance to. There was also the matter of decorations: what decorations he and Peter had owned before moving in together had been miserable for their respective apartments, but it would be even worse in the big house.

For Ellie, he found a large leather jacket, the likes of which she’d wanted for a while and the Prestons deemed too expensive. Nothing was too expensive for his daughter – or maybe he was just as insanely rich as Peter had implied he was when they’d cleaned up his apartment, months ago. It had gotten hard to tell. He also picked a thin, delicate gold necklace he was absolutely certain she would love, and a pair of fuzzy pink unicorn slippers because he knew her. She would never buy herself those, even though she loved it, but gladly accept them from him and pretend she only wore them to please him and that she “wasn’t a child anymore, dad”.

For Peter, he found hilarious Avengers-printed socks and a set of bath products that he knew Peter liked but hadn’t bought in years because, once again, “too expensive”. If his boy wanted to smell like lavender and sunshine, then dammit, he would smell like lavender and sunshine! Oh, and what about these fancy massage oils? Peter could definitely use a massage, and, well, Wade was not opposed to the sexy times that might occur… And oven mittens. They needed oven mittens, the ones that had been in the house were ragged, Wade hadn’t owned any and Peter’s were… well. They were better in the trash than in their kitchen. And matching mugs. They absolutely NEEDED matching mugs. He looked at a few, but couldn’t find anything that he really liked, and decided to design some.

“You’re still up? I thought you would have gone to bed when I came home”, Peter said softly, having crept up the stairs silently so he wouldn’t wake him nor Ellie.

Wade looked at the hour, surprised to see him already. Five and a half in the morning. Shit.

He closed the laptop, and smiled.

“Didn’t see time pass”, he admitted sheepishly. “Come here”, he added, opening the bed to let Peter in.

Peter chucked his clothes on the floor and slipped between the covers, his fingers and nose freezing cold when they touched Wade. He hissed and wrapped his hands around them, pulling Peter against him to help warm him up. He felt Peter relax in his embrace as he nuzzled his hair.

“I thought you’d sleep to take Ellie to school”, Peter mumbled.  
“That’s what I had planned”, Wade replied. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll have to be up in like, half and hour? A bit more. I’ll come back and sleep with you after.”

Peter hummed, sleepy and quickly warming up, and Wade released his hands to splay his fingers on his waist, idly stroking along his back. He let his hand creep up and glide along Peter’s thigh, on the inner, sensitive side, and Peter opened his eyes to glare at him sleepily.

“Don’t start anything you don’t have time to finish”, he grumbled, and Wade smirked.  
“Not my intention”, he whispered back. “Just want to get you off. Think you’ve got one in you?” he asked teasingly, trailing a finger up Peter’s hardening cock.  
“I’m not moving”, Peter warned, and Wade kissed his shoulder blade.  
“I’m taking care of everything”, he assured him, licked his palm to ease the glide and wrapped his hand around Peter.

Peter stretched languorously, hips lightly pushing into his hold as he jerked him slowly, coaxing him to full hardness and swiping his thumb on the head to spread the leaking precum. Wade was fascinated by the way his lover relaxed in his hold, accepting his simple offering and taking it gratefully. Not holding back – he was too tired for that -, panting quietly and shifting minutely as his orgasm grew closer and closer. Peter came with a soft gasp, opening his eyes to look back at him and showcase his glazed over gaze and blown pupils. A kiss, and Peter snuggled closer.

“Mmh. Thank you, love. That was perfect.”

Wade grinned, as Peter seamlessly fell asleep.

Yes, that was perfect.


	56. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas time!

~~ PETER ~~

Days to Christmas passed in a blur. Wade had bought decorations, and even gone up North to cut them a Christmas tree himself – thankfully, he’d been thoughtful enough that he’d taken one that would fit in the house. Ellie came home every Monday, and Peter was delighted to get to know her. He had forgotten how hilarious teens were, and with Wade, the three of them were basically unstoppable, probably because there was no “reasonable adult” to stop them.

Even Sissy Margaret’s had broken out the Christmas decorations, a ridiculously small and scrappy Christmas tree on the counter and flickering garlands that had known better days, and Peter definitely worked with a beanie on his head. Either way, the Christmas break arrived quicker than expected and Wade drove to get Ellie home, while Peter kept an eye on his baking cookies, which were smelling a bit too good for his sanity.

“Hello Peter!” Ellie greeted him, leaving her suitcase by the door to run up to him and hug him tight.

She was, just like Wade, the kind that loved touching people, and Peter couldn’t say he minded. He had never really thought about having children, but suddenly, he had a teenage daughter and he would fight anyone who dared say anything contrary.

“Ellie! Tell me you broke the nose of that jerk who bothered you”, he said, voice stern and hands on her shoulders.

She nodded.

“Just like Dad taught me”, she replied with a grin. “Oh! Are those Dad’s cookies?! Man I’ve been craving them, I can’t wait to eat some!”

Peter laughed.

“How about you take off your shoes and coat, wash your hands and set the table while I carry your suitcase upstairs? Your Dad’s stew is almost ready and I am _starving_.”  
“You’re always starving”, she pointed out. “Dad, you owe me a revanche! Poker tonight!”  
“You have nothing to bet with!” Wade yelled as he stomped up the porch and entered the house.  
“I have a bag full of sweets!” she retorted.

Peter crossed his arms and stared at Wade.

“If you get on a sugar high, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”  
“But Baby Boy”, Wade started.  
“ _No_. Last time you kicked me so hard I woke up on the ceiling.”  
“NOT MY FAULT”, Wade protested.

Peter’s glare was apparently enough to cow him into dropping a kiss on his cheek and check on his cookies. He then glanced at the Christmas tree in the living-room, which was slightly blinding, thinking that he had never had a house with this much decoration for Christmas. They’d decorated with Ellie on several Monday nights, once the decorations Wade had ordered had arrived. He was also fairly sure Wade kept the presents he’d gotten in a safe in the small attic, where you could only walk bent in two.

Swiftly, he grabbed Ellie’s suitcase and carried it upstairs, knocking on the door when he got there, even though it was already open. At her invitation, he came inside and put the suitcase down next to her bed.

“I’m starving”, she declared, and while he went to help Wade in the kitchen with dinner, she set the table in the living-room.

Dinner was a lively affair, and for the first time since Peter had met her, she was allowed to stay up late with them. Peter had taken the few days leading up to Christmas off, and they took advantage of that to watch movies well into the night – not that it changed much of Peter’s rhythm. Christmas Eve arrived, Wade’s cooking permeating through the whole house, mounds of freshly baked cookies stacked on plates – far more than they could eat by themselves, but Peter knew most would be for the homeless he saw on patrol.

There was a knock at the door, and Ellie jumped from the couch, her fuzzy socks sliding on the wood floor.

“I’ve got it!” she said, before she opened the door. “MJ!” she greeted warmly, and Peter was glad they’d taken the time to introduce the two of them.

Ellie had quite suddenly gained two confidants, both well-willing to kick a few asses for her – to say that MJ had gotten protective over the girl was and understatement. It only made sense, when MJ had no family to spend Christmas with, to have her join in theirs. Peter and MJ might be over what had been their story, they were still family to each other, and Wade had taken a liking to her.

“Dad wouldn’t say, you’re staying for the night?”, Ellie asked enthusiastically.  
“No, I’m…” She flushed. “I’m seeing someone, I’ll be staying there.”

Ellie’s eyes widened.

“You’ve met someone?”

Peter met MJ’s gaze over Ellie’s shoulder, and rose an eyebrow. This was news to him too.

“I was hesitant at first, but… yes”, MJ replied, taking off her coat. “You’ll get to meet him when he’ll come to pick me up.”  
“It doesn’t bother him that you’re spending Christmas Eve with your ex?” Peter asked.  
“Not at all”, she replied with a smile, a twinkle in her eyes. Oh, he didn’t like that. He didn’t like that _at all_. “He has an extended family that can be quite overwhelming, from what he told me, and we’re not… it’s not serious enough yet for that.”

This time, Peter rose both eyebrows.

“It’s not serious enough for you to meet his family, but it’s serious enough for him to meet your ex and his family? Just what kind of guy have you picked up?”  
“The absolutely wonderful type”, she said with a laugh. “You’ll hate him.”

Yeah, precisely his thoughts. He scowled and Wade laughed, planting a kiss on his lips.

“Lighten up, baby boy”, he said cheerfully, before he turned to MJ. “Do I get to give him the shovel talk?”

For some reason, MJ thought this was _hilarious_ and they had her in stitches for a few minutes before she managed to calm down.

“Oh please do”, she replied between bouts of laughter.

Dinner was a loud, joyous affair, MJ apparently determined to _not_ be the reasonable one, which meant there was no actual adult in the house, and all hell broke loose. It was MJ who started to fight, shooting Wade with the water-gun Peter’s boyfriend had, at some point and without his knowledge, strapped under the table, just within her reach. Peter wasn’t exactly sure about the wisdom of having a water-fight _inside, in the middle of winter_ , but he couldn’t let himself be defeated. He found another of the guns between the pillows of the couch, while Ellie took one from _inside_ the Christmas tree. Wade, the traitor, brought out the equivalent of a machine-gun and within minutes, they were all drenched and shrieking in laughter as they ran around the living-room, hiding behind the furniture to take shots at each other.

As the evening passed by, they eventually calmed down and Peter got them all towels and change of clothes, while Wade prepared hot chocolate for everyone. They drank it sitting on the ragged carpet in front of the couch, sitting around a space-heater Wade had dragged down from the attic. Eventually though, MJ got a message that her new boyfriend was ready to pick her up. She left her presents for Peter, Wade and Ellie under the tree, expecting them not to open them before the morning. In return, Peter went to their bedroom and retrieved the bag which contained the presents they had for her.

“Thank you for tonight”, she said with a smile, hugging them all. “It was wonderful.”

In the silence of the night, they heard a car park in front of their house: Peter and Wade exchanged a gaze. This was no ordinary car, not by the sound of the engine. Wade pulled his hood farther over his head, hiding in its shadows. There was a firm knock at the door, and MJ smirked devilishly as Peter went to open the door. He glared at her, opened the door, stared at the man standing there for a second, slammed the door close and let out a loud “What the _FUCK_.”

MJ burst out laughing and her wannabe boyfriend knocked again, with what Peter was sure was wretched glee. He glared harder and opened the door again, stepping aside to let the man come in. Wade stared for a second, before he dissolved into helpless laughter, Ellie staring with her eyes wide.

“We finally meet”, Tony Stark said with a smile, holding out a hand to Peter.

Peter closed the door, stared at him harder, and eventually shook his hand.

“Officially”, he replied.

Bruce had made sure to warn him that the Avengers had known _exactly_ who he was after Jameson fired him, and had been following his adventures from afar when they’d heard he’d picked up a job in Sissy Margaret’s, out of concern for him. When it had become obvious he wasn’t about to betray his ideals just because he served drinks to mercenaries, they had planned to withdraw and leave him to it – but then, word had come out that he was dating _Deadpool_ , of all people, and they were all too fascinated to let go.

His last conversation with MJ about the man chose that moment to come back to his mind, as Tony looked at him with an appreciative air. Precisely, that he apparently had a ticket with Tony Stark. Tony Stark, who was dating MJ.

“A _large and over-whelming family?”_ Peter finally screeched, turning to MJ. “Is that what we’re calling the Avengers now?”  
“I mean, you’ve met Steve”, Tony replied, suppressing his laughter.

Peter threw his hands up.

“ _No_ , I haven’t met _Steve_. I’ve met _Captain America_ , and that’s not the same thing and you know it perfectly.” He glared and crossed his arms. “You broke my ribs.”

Tony winced.

“Truly sorry about that. Things got a little out of hand.”  
“Next time you decide to have a lovers’ spat with _Steve_ , make sure you don’t drag half the world in it too”, Peter deadpanned, and Tony spluttered.  
“It was not-”

Peter crossed his arms and stared at him.

“It was _not_ ”, Tony insisted, and damn he was already _Tony_ , Peter was so fucked.  
“MJ”, he said, turning to her, “we’ll have to have a talk about your _awful_ taste in boyfriends.”  
“I married you”, she replied.  
“Exactly my point.”  
“Are you saying my taste is awful too?” Wade interjected, and Peter knew him enough to hear the slight innuendo in his question, and he pulled a face at him.

Neither MJ nor Ellie heard it, thankfully, but Tony had Wade in his line of sight and didn’t miss his smirk, nor Peter’s answer.

“Alright that’s _far_ more than I ever wanted to know”, he said hurriedly. “MJ, how about we get going before this becomes an all out brawl?”

MJ laughed, put on her coat and took his arm with a smile. She whispered something in his ear and Peter was met with the entirely too strange sight of Tony Stark turning a bright red that surely couldn’t be healthy, before he slid a glance to him. Meeting Peter’s gaze, he seemed to turn even redder, and with their goodbyes said, Tony and MJ were out the door.

“That had to be one of the weirdest Christmas Eves ever”, Peter eventually said.  
“It was awesome”, Ellie replied, hugging him.  
“Off to bed with you”, Wade smiled shooing her off. “Let Santa Claus have some time to stop by and leave his presents under the tree.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, but complied anyway. Wade stepped forward and pulled Peter into his arms, kissing him – he still tasted faintly of cocoa and whatever sugary sweets he’d added to it, and Peter melted against him.

“You know”, Wade murmured against his cheek, trailing his lips along his jaw and to his ear, “there’s a present I wouldn’t mind opening a bit early.”

Peter felt his heartrate spike at the allusion, and he tightened his fingers on Wade’s arms.

“Pull the ribbon, Mr. Pool”, he whispered back, the invitation clear in his voice.

Wade held him tighter, kissing him.

“Merry Christmas, love.”  
“Merry Christmas”, Peter replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, the event in which Spider-Man got his ribs broken by Iron Man while also fighting Captain America is Civil War.  
> Don't ask me how much it changed, I have no idea, but they're all friends again and everything is fine in the world (except for Peter's ribs)


	57. Wade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Here come the last chapter and the epilogue! This arc has come to an end.  
> There will be two follow-up arcs (Spider-Verse and Flash & The Prowler (both working titles).  
> I'll start writing/posting Spiderverse after the summer, so we're going on a bit of a hiatus. See you soon!

~~ WADE ~~

{Oooh this was such a good idea}, Yellow crooned.

Wade gasped, watching his lover wantonly fuck himself on him, the canvas of a dark sky shot with stars behind him, the lights set in the truck around them just enough to see him move – the light almost liquid as it ran down Peter’s chest and stomach, catching the hair on his thighs and between his legs and turning him into a piece of art. The squeaks and creaks of the truck would have been worrying if Wade had the mental space left to care for that, but all his attention was on his gorgeous boyfriend and the hot, wet pressure on his cock, where all his blood had pooled.

“Feels so good, Wade”, Peter moaned, arching his back and exposing his throat as he sent his head back, rolling his hips a little bit faster.

And Wade was so glad that they were in the middle of nowhere, in the back of his old truck, with only the stars as witnesses – so that Peter could make all the noise he wanted, and oh boy was he noisy. He regretted not working him up more than that, but, well. They still had a few days to do that. He had no doubt Peter would be open to the proposition.

“You’re gorgeous, baby boy”, he said, voice hoarse with pleasure. “Look so good, taking my cock like that.”

Peter keened and faltered for a second, nearly sprawling over him, and Wade knew he was close. Peter gripped the sides of the truck tight and the metal groaned, louder and louder as Peter grew frantic. There was another groan, louder than the others, just as Peter spilled with a shout, coming untouched – which was probably why he’d been so intense. Wade followed him with a shout, feeling every nerve buzz, overwhelmed, and Peter trembling over him. When he opened his eyes again, Peter was swaying slightly and breathing deeply to calm himself, his hands still curled around the sides of the truck.

He lifted his hands and Wade lifted a non-existent eyebrow, his lover looking back at him sheepishly.

“Uhm, oops?”  
“These ones are gonna be hard to explain”, Wade replies, looking at the bent, curled metal of the car where Peter had gripped too tight.

He was thankful it hadn’t been him, otherwise, Peter would have surely broken him a bone or two. Slowly, he helped Peter slide off and collapse beside him, semen running down his thighs and splattered over his torso. Yes, a work of art, really.

After a ‘rough fight’, Sissy Margaret’s had been in need of a heavy renovation, and Weasel had decided that, if he had to close the bar for some time, he would make things right and make sure all that had needed to be done would be set right. That had meant, however, that for the five months the renovations would take, Peter didn’t have a job. They weren’t worried about money – Peter had started to go over Wade’s finances and, when he’d gotten at two years living the same as they were now without Wade working, he’d decreed that Wade was too rich for him to worry.

Peter had planned, at first, to use his spare time to patrol as Spider-Man, and he’d done so for roughly two weeks. That was when Wade had set his plan in motion: five months for a roadtrip around the country, like he’d dreamt they would do together. They had left New-York mid-February and now, mid-June, they were finally closing in on home. That had also been the occasion to accomplish a few fantasies, which Wade was very, _very_ glad about.

Peter had been a little less enthused when sex on the beach revealed itself to be less glamorous than they’d thought, but Wade had quickly been forgiven.

[You’re forgetting the blowjob or ten that were involved in you getting forgiven.]  
{Best idea ever. Peter does know how to make us _beg_.}  
[That truck will never be the same again. I’m surprised it doesn’t smell of sex more.]  
 _To be honest, I’m slightly surprised too_ , Wade admitted.

“The boxes again, uh?” Peter asked, smiling lazily.

Wade glanced at him, and if he hadn’t just come, he would certainly go again.

{Who are you kidding, we’re nearly ready to go again!}  
[Peter isn’t so young anymore, though. He might need some time or some… _incentive_. If you catch my drift.]

“The boxes”, Wade sighed. “Arguing whether or not you’d be able to go again.”

Peter laughed, and snuggled up to him, his brown eyes soft and humorous.

“I certainly won’t stop you from trying, as long as you don’t mind if it takes me some time to be ready.” He drew nonsense patterns over his chest. “Did you have something in mind?”  
“Mmh. Not especially, but-”

{Bend him over the hood. He’d like that. Keep his hands bound on his back, too. Fuck him long and hard, make him see stars that are not of this constellation!}  
[Splay his legs and take your time. Make him go crazy. Eat him out, you know we love his delicious soft moans when we do that.]  
{Oh, oh, I know, I know! Make him run and give him chase! Pounce on him and pound him into the floor! Make him scream!}  
 _Are we still talking about sex?_

“The boxes certainly have… suggestions.”  
“Mmh, well”, Peter murmured, “I have one: how about I sit on your face, and once I’m good to go again, I let you use my webs to tie me up and do _whatever_ you want? You’ve wanted to try over-stimulating me, haven’t you?”

Wade felt like he’d just had the breath punched out of him. He knew Peter could play dirty, of course, but he hadn’t been… expecting that. Sometimes, he still got completely blindsided by his lover, and admittedly, he loved it.

Wade woke up with the dawn, only to see Peter still sleeping peacefully, tucked against his side, the blankets dropped to his hips, his hair mussed up from both sleep and sex, and he couldn’t stop thinking that there could hardly be a better way to wake up in the morning. He stretched, and while he felt no pain anywhere, he was pretty sure that Peter must be _very_ sore from the night before. There were scratches down his naked back, and hand-shaped bruises on his hips and arms, that matched Wade’s own. He looked _wonderful_.

Eventually though, they had to go back to a more regular life, taking up patrol, flipping the bird at Iron Man when they saw him fly by, Wade taking jobs while Peter tended the bar at Sissy Margaret’s. Ellie started to come by more often, her weekly nights at theirs turning into week-ends spent there. Eddie, Flash and Venom were nowhere to be seen, but given the nature of Flash’s predicament, it wasn’t unexpected.

Of course, it was when things seemed to finally be settling that shit had to happen again.


	58. Epilogue: Peter

~~ EPILOGUE: PETER ~~

It was a late winter night, about a year after the end of the debacle with virus Z and Venom. Peter and Wade had come back from patrol and picked up pizzas to eat inside, where it would be warmer, instead of going for one of their rooftops dates. They’d had a lazy round of sex afterwards, and were comatose on their destroyed couch, TV playing in the background, when it happened. Peter slowly rose his head from where it was resting on Wade’s chest to stare at the circling, colourful _thing_ on their ceiling, just above them.

“What. The. Fuck”, Wade asked.

Peter screamed when the thing suddenly started to suck everything in the room, including him, and reflexively shot a web to the couch. But it didn’t connect with the couch and instead stuck to Wade’s chest, pulling the merc from where he was laying. The man instinctively reached out for his katanas and managed to grab them just before the thing’s attraction got strong enough to pry him off the couch. There was a flash of colour and they landed awkwardly in a tangle of limbs, in the snow. For once, they were both glad they had kept their suits on – even though Wade lacked his pants and shoes and would have been buck naked if not for the blanket that had been stuck around him.

{Our balls are going to shrivel and fall off.}  
[And then Peter won’t want you anymore.]

Peter jumped to his feet, groaning all the way, and helped Wade up before he looked around.

“What… happened?”  
“A good question, Baby Boy. This still looks like Queens but…”  
“Something’s off”, Peter replied.

A newspaper flew with a gust of ice-cold wind and Wade clenched the blanket tighter around his lower body, just as the newspaper hit him in the face. He pulled it off with a grunt and stared at the newspaper. More precisely, at the date.

“Uh, Peter, am I having an hallucination or…?”  
“Do you think… we went back in the past? Like, ten years in the past?”

Wade shook his head.

“This is different. I can’t pinpoint exactly how, but we haven’t travelled back in time.”

Peter startled, looking up, and Wade followed his gaze: so far, the spider-sense had never did them wrong. His jaw went slack when Spider-Man swung over them with a whoop of joy, curving gracefully as he went up, before he sent a web to catch himself.

“Did you see that?”

Peter nodded, awe etched on his face.

“He’s like me… I sensed it, he really is another Spider-Man! Quick, hang on”, he added.

Wade secured the blanket on his hips and placed the katanas in their sheaths before he jumped on Peter’s back and held on octopus-style. Neither of them had their masks, but it was dark enough and they were in a hurry. They followed Spider-Man, who hadn’t seemed to notice the two older guys swinging after him – but they were quite far, so it wasn’t that weird, _no Petey I’m pretty sure he’s competent enough_.

“You know, now I understand why you call me bubble-butt”, Peter said with a pensive frown.  
“Right? It’s beautiful”, Wade said with a sigh, and Peter shot him a murderous look over his shoulder.

The merc sniggered and pecked his stubble-rough cheek.

“You know you’re the only one for me, none of that fake Spidey.”

They would have collided with the two swingers coming from their left if not for the spider-sense. As it was, they narrowly avoided them but found themselves in a tangle of webs that nearly sent them to the ground. They managed to crash on a rooftop, groaning in pain at the rough landing.

“This city’s rooftops are definitely too crowded”, Peter groaned.  
“O-kay now that’s freaky”, Wade replied, his eyes set on the two strangers.

There was another Spider-Man, with a suit a darker shade of blue, and a Spider-Man with a black suit and huge-ass teeth. Teeth that definitely reminded him of someone else.

“…Venom?”  
“Vee, darling, did you cook something weird again?” the dark-blue Spider-Man asked, cocking his head.  
“Did not!” Venom hissed in outrage.  
“…Yep, that’s Venom”, Wade confirmed, glancing at Peter.  
“That’s really, really fucking _weird_ ”, the dark-blue Spider-Man said again, pulling off his mask.

Peter stared, unblinking, at the face that mirrored his own, a few years longer.

He was way too tired for this shit.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it, as usual don't hesitate to comment.  
> Excerpts and updates can be found on my Twitter, bittodeath, and you can also reach me on my Tumblr. I'm also available on Discord if you want to rant about SpideyPool with me.


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